


Common Thread

by devilatwork (dorkdevil)



Category: Saints Row
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Blow Jobs, Hand Jobs, I mean... it's Genki Bowl, M/M, Professor Genki's Super Ethical Reality Climax, Thigh Fuck, also lots of blood, at least for a while, chap 1 is angst but it gets better i promise, eventually nsfw, minor (?) character death tho, then it's kinda chill
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-13
Updated: 2021-01-24
Packaged: 2021-03-10 21:49:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 22,423
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28054179
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dorkdevil/pseuds/devilatwork
Summary: Alternate universe in which Johnny is part of the Syndicate.(AU idea by AlexBlacklight)
Relationships: Boss (Saints Row)/Johnny Gat, Male Boss (Saints Row)/Johnny Gat
Comments: 5
Kudos: 36





	1. Skies over Steelport

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AlexBlacklight](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlexBlacklight/gifts).



It had been supposed to be an easy job. Enter the bank, claim the money, receive the loot and get out. Joshua Birk would have done his field research for his role in the upcoming Saints movie, and the Saints would have asserted their dominance over Stilwater’s 1st National Bank. Win-win. Or so they had thought. No one had expected the heist to end with the arrest of the entire on-site crew, save Birk who had managed to take flight before all hell had broken loose.  
  
  
“The fuck is this, we paid up this month.” The Saints’ boss growled as he was shoved into the prison cell with Shaundi and Carlos. Each month they paid the police a generous sum to turn a blind eye on the Saints’ actions, and so far that had worked smoothly. That was until…  
  
“Someone paid more.” The annoyed officer replied and shut the barred door in front of them, leaving before the gang could bother him any more.  
  
“What happened?” Carlos asked carefully as soon as the sound of footsteps had disappeared in the distance.  
  
“We got arrested.” Shaundi answered, clearly pissed by the situation.  
  
“No, I mean… Why? There ain’t nobody left in Stilwater who could possibly want to go against the Saints like this. And them paying the police more than us? What’s up with that?”  
  
  
“That is a great question.” A woman’s voice interrupted their conversation before half a dozen people stepped into their cell. They were clad in red and black, men in suits, women leaving little to the imagination. The Saints hadn’t seen those outfits before. “And our employer would love to supply a detailed answer.”  
  
“If you’ll indulge us…?” Another woman - the spitting image of the first - finished, though her tone left no doubt that she wasn’t asking.  
  
“Fine.” Playa muttered, deciding to hear the other party out despite his discontentment over the current situation. He wasn’t admitting that, without any weapons at hand, resistance was probably futile anyway. He was merely giving whoever was in charge the chance to explain themselves before he would pay them back tenfold. Didn’t matter that he was in cuffs for now.  
  
  
The three Saints were taken to the airport, seated on the floor of a cargo bay and, shortly after that, the airplane rumbled and rolled into motion. Its destination was unknown to the purple crew but they could imagine that whatever its owner had in mind for them, couldn’t be in their best interest. Being tied and unarmed was not what one wanted to be in this kind of situation.  
Playa glanced over to Shaundi and Carlos. The latter had noticed that the group guarding them was too focused on keeping their balance during the take-off to pay close attention to them, and had begun to sneakily work on the handcuffs behind his back. _Good boy_ .  
About half a minute later Carlos glanced over to his boss and Playa knew that he had succeeded.  
  
  
“Whoa!”  
  
A sudden turbulence jerked the aircraft to the side and Carlos seized the opportunity to shift closer to Shaundi, who was sitting next to him. Their guards didn’t notice and, pressed shoulder to shoulder, Carlos started to work on freeing her from her cuffs as well.

By the time the plane stopped ascending the Saint had finished his work, but before they could try to free their boss as well, the three of them were pulled back onto their feet and led towards the front of the plane.  
They walked through a spacious passenger compartment - “Hey, why didn’t you guys let us wait in here? It’s empty!” - then an even more luxurious one - “Or this one! ...What a waste.” while the Saints boss’ held a one-sided conversation to keep the focus off his gang members and their unlocked handcuffs.  
  
The silent guards showed their annoyance only through the roughness with which they shoved the three of them onto a row of seats facing the mounted screen, desk and revolving chair before it in the third room.  
The twins from the prison cell were each standing on one side of the table, watching over the man who slowly turned in his large white chair to face them.

  
  
"You have any idea who you're fucking with here!?" Playa glared at the white-haired man’s face who remained perfectly calm.

"Of course." He answered with an audible French accent before he moved to introducing his own crew in return, starting with the twins at his sides. “These visions are Viola and Kiki. And I am Phillipe Loren, chairman of a multi-national organization called the Syndicate."

"Never heard of it." Shaundi couldn’t sound less impressed but that, too, seemed irrelevant to the elderly man.

"Evidently not, or you wouldn't have robbed our bank.” He took a deep drag of his cigarette before he continued. “Perhaps you wonder why you're still breathing at this point."  
  
“Just why would your organization suddenly open up a bank in Stilwater?” Carlos interrupted, trying poorly to mimic the other’s nonchalance.  
  
“It is simple, Mr. Mendoza.” Loren lifted himself off his chair. “Our organization is expanding into Stilwater. And I am offering you the chance to leverage your assets against your lives. Ladies?"  
  
He stepped aside to clear the view towards the mounted screen which was displaying a pie chart and the woman on the right started talking. 

"You may continue to operate the Saints/Ultor media group as you see fit, in exchange for 66 percent of your monthly gross revenue."

"That is before taxes, of course." Kiki finished the outrageous explanation.  
  


"Listen, you French fuck--" Playa raised his voice in anger.

"Please. I am Belgian!"

“You could be Swiss for all we care, but there’s no way we’re gonna accept a rotten deal like that.” Carlos interjected.

“...And I had so hoped to come to a rational business arrangement." Philippe clicked his tongue in disapproval and moved back to make room for his armed flunkey to point his gun at Carlos’ face. Negotiations were over.  
  
  
Shaundi suddenly kicked up, knocking the gun out of the man’s hands, and Carlos lunged forward to tackle him down. Before the second guard could react, Shaundi had already reached for the dropped gun and bashed it against his head, rendering him unconscious.  
Carlos got off the motionless first guard and ran towards the boss to uncuff him. Loren who wasn’t going to just stand by idly drew a knife and dashed towards the Saints’ boss. Playa heard the freeing click just in time to dodge and retaliate by running Loren’s face into the window at their side. To both of their surprise it cracked and a loud whooshing noise signaled that the plane was decompressing.  
A hand on his elbow pulled him back and redirected his attention to the matter at hand.  
  
  
“We gotta get out of here!” Shaundi called over the ruckus and Playa answered with a nod.

  
They shot down the wave of approaching Syndicate members who had been attracted by the noise and, fully armed now, made their way to the back of the plane. One glance back revealed Kiki and Viola leading a bleeding Phillipe Loren into the cockpit, then the Saints’ boss made his way into the opposite direction.  
  
  
Guns blazing the three somehow managed to reach the back of the plane mostly unharmed. Shaundi was working out a way to open the large door of the cargo bay, Carlos ran ahead to look for parachutes and Playa was backing them up.

“Boss, catch!” Carlos suddenly called and tossed a backpack to his leader, just in time before the plane started to open.  
  
“Good job, Shaundi! Now get yourself a chute and let’s bail!” The Boss shouted over the sound of the opening door and watched her shoulder a backpack as well.  
  
  
The strong winds had started pulling the contents of the cargo bay outside and Playa had to dodge the crates that came flying towards him. When the transported cars started to come loose, he knew they had to hurry lest they got crushed before they could even try to leave the plane.  
  
“Go!” He shouted and jumped off the aircraft.

  
He turned his head to watch Shaundi and Carlos do the same. Not a minute too early, as a couple of cars dashed past where that had stood mere seconds before. They weren’t out of danger yet, however.  
  
Ordered to kill the Saints, more Syndicates leaped off the plane to shoot at them, parachute backpacks strapped onto their backs as well. Playa turned around mid-flight to shoot them down. His associates watched his example and did the same. When most of their enemies started opening their parachutes, the Boss, too, spun around to assess their situation. They were approaching ground level fast. No need to play it any riskier than it already was.  
  
“Alright, let’s sail!” He tried to call over to his friends before pulling on the knob at his side and feeling an abrupt pull as the parachute eased his fall.  
  
  
Shaundi, who had started her fall shortly after Playa, saw her boss’ action and followed suit as well. Then came Carlos, who pulled on his knob.  
  
  
“Come on, Carlos!” Playa yelled at the boy who had already passed his two associates in their fall and seemed to gain distance.  
  
  
“Pull the damn knob, Carlos!” Shaundi shouted, and a hint of fear slipped into her voice as she watched them approach ground level.  
  
  
“CARLOS, GODDAMNIT! OPEN THE FUCKING CHUTE!”  
  
  
The boss didn’t know if he had heard him but when shrinking figure looked up, eyes widened in panic as it yanked on the knob over and over again, he felt an ice cold shiver draining all color from his face. _No...  
  
_

“ _C A R L O S ! ! !”_ Shaundi let out a bloodcurdling shriek.  
  
  
Playa felt his stomach turn.  
  
  
  
Helplessly, they hung in the air and slowly glided into the darkness below them that was Steelport.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Up next: Enter Johnny Gat


	2. Professor Genki's Super Ethical Reality Climax

The Saints infiltrated Steelport.  
Carlos’ tragic death had instilled a rage in their leader’s heart that could only be settled by the organization’s complete destruction, and his loyal crew had relocated promptly to assist him with that. Geared up, they had soon seized a penthouse from the Morningstars.  
They were still far from destroying the Syndicate, however, and Playa was growing more and more impatient with each passing day.  
  
It was on the way back from a Friendly Fire one day, that he spotted something that would finally take his mind off things: A pink cat mascot with a giant head and doctor’s outfit that was cheered on by a nearby crowd as it disappeared into a large warehouse. The worn logo on the outer walls read “Professor Genki's Super Ethical Reality Climax” over neon pink graffiti that tried to lure people in with a “Sign up here!”  
  
  
“Professor Genki…? The fuck is this...” Playa mumbled to himself but, too intrigued by the strangeness of it all, decided to step outside and see for himself.  
  
He walked over to the warehouse and pushed open the door through which the strange cat-person had disappeared. He found himself in some strange sort of entrance hall.  
It reminded him of a run-down ticket counter, only with less popcorn and more bulletproof glass between the worker and himself, and the holes in the brick walls told him they were there for a reason.  
  
  
“Hi, dear!”  
  
A shrill voice greeted him enthusiastically through the wall-mounted speakers. Playa looked up, then back at the pink-haired woman behind the glass who was offering him an uncomfortably wide grin as she spoke into a microphone. There was a crazy look in her widened eyes and the Saint wondered if she was on some sort of high. Judging from what he had seen of Steelport so far, he wouldn’t be surprised.  
  
“Are you here to sign up for PROFESSOR GENKI’S SUPER ETHICAL REALITY CLIMAX!?” She continued euphorically, shouting out what the sign outside had read in little less than mania.  
  
“Uh… no, not really. What kind of place is this?” Playa answered, though his words seemed to have a strange effect on the woman.  
  
Her grin stayed in place, but she averted her eyes as if to disregard the man’s presence from then on.  
  
“Hey! What kind of place is this? And who was that weird cat-mascot that walked through here before?”  
  
  
Playa hammered against the reinforced glass to get her attention but the woman did not bat an eye. It was as though she had completely blanked out his existence. The Saint let out a frustrated groan and considered the situation for a moment. Whatever this Genki thing was, could it really be that bad? If things turned out for the worst, he could always just shoot his way out of it. And if not, perhaps _whatever this was_ could offer some sort of entertainment.  
He slammed his hand flat against the window and let out an annoyed sigh before he resigned.  
  


“ _Fine!_ What if I _am_ here to sign up for the Genki whatever. What do I do?”  
  
Instantly the woman’s attention returned to him and she beamed as if nothing had happened.  
  
“Splendid! It just so happens that we’ve got an opening for tonight! Aren’t you a lucky one! Just place your hand on the screen to your right and we’ll be all set!”

  
Playa followed her instructions but pulled back in surprise when he saw his personal data flash on the display.  
  
“Hey, what the fuck!? What is th–”  
  
“Alright, you’re all set! Have fun and good luck!” The woman interrupted him with her stretched grin and a wave of sound flooded the room as the metal doors opposite the entrance swung open. They led into a sort of waiting room, the odd Professor Genki logo plastered on a set of heavy doors and a screen mounted onto the ceiling next to it.  
  
  
“And what am I supposed to d–” Playa turned around but before he could finish his sentence, the doors to the entrance closed behind him and the dark screen flickered awake. A short introduction video started playing and slowly the Saints’ boss began to understand what exactly he had gotten himself into.  
  
“So I just shoot a bunch of things and walk out with a load of money? Sounds easy enough!”

The Saint could imagine much worse predicaments he could have gotten himself into. If anything, this could even be fun. Either way, he decided he was going to make the best of it and readied himself for the challenge.

Then, at last, the doors slid aside and opened the way to the deadly course. Already, a bullet flew past him, missing his shoulder only by a little, and Playa ran ahead into the action.  
As he was surprised by murderous fire traps and electrical currents, all while trying to dodge enemy bullets and take his opponents out in return, two men commented the actions delightedly through some speakers. Apparently the show was broadcast live on television.

“Welcome to Professor Genki's Super Ethical Reality Climax! Murder Time is Fun Time, right, Bobby?” The first commentator's voice boomed over the sounds of gunfire and fire blasts.  
  
"You got it, Zach. If our contestants can survive the deadly traps, armed mascots and those freakishly huge hunters, they can win a hefty pile of cash!" A deeper, more raspy voice agreed with equal enthusiasm.  
  
“This game looks deadly… because it is!” Zach laughed, before he continued. “But it's still - probably - safer than driving in Steelport!”  
  
“Our competitor isn’t from Steelport this time, Zach. Today we’ll be watching the leader of the Saints, the world-famous Stilwater street gang.”  
  
Playa almost missed a shot in surprise when he heard the commentators mentioning his identity and cursed under his breath. _“Bet that was that damn screen.”_  
Part of him wanted to wonder just what kind of resources and technology the host had at his disposal to bypass the Saints’ own security measures of keeping their identities and fingerprints off the records, but a bullet grazing his cheek reminded him that now wasn’t the time to reflect about that.  
  
“As many times as this former gangbanger has been shot at, blown up, run over and generally put through hell, this competition probably seems pretty routine!”  
  
They certainly had done their research. In the very short time he had spent in that establishment, no less.  
  
“Routine, maybe, but lucrative!”  
  
  
...  
  
  
Ten minutes of pure adrenaline passed and when it was over the Saints’ leader felt both relieved and hungry for more. In the rush of life and death there had been no time to think about the shitty things in his life. No problems. No worries. Just the thrill of survival and sheer instinct.  
  
When Playa walked out of the building, wallet loaded with money, he could still taste it on his tongue. The addictive taste of success.

  
  
“That was fucking beautiful.” A voice suddenly came from behind him, and Playa turned around to face the unknown man who was approaching him. Though it was dark out, a set of dark sunglasses was covering the stranger’s eyes, and the Saint could make out the red shirt he was wearing. Instantly Playa readied himself to draw his gun, but the other man didn’t show any sign of hostility. Not yet, at least.  
“I wish some asshole hadn’t shot the fucking speakers in the lobby. Couldn’t hear a damn thing. But what I saw… Seriously, that was a motherfucking masterpiece. You come here often?”  
  
  
The boss didn’t know what to think. This stranger who was complimenting his skills so was most certainly a member of the Syndicate. He had gotten to know the red and black colours well enough ever since they had relocated to Steelport. But contrary to the other members they had encountered so far, this man seemed completely relaxed. The only explanation Playa had was that he really had absolutely no idea that he was talking to the leader of the Saints.  
Perhaps that was for the better. There was something about that man that told Playa not to mess with him… and his instincts were usually right.  
  
  
“Nah, first time today.”  
  
“For real? Man, you’ve been offing those mascots like you’d done nothing else your entire life! If you keep this up, imma have a serious contender to my title.”  
  
“Your title?”  
  
“Johnny Gat, five-year champion of the Genki Bowl. Pleasure to meet ya.” Gat smirked at Playa.  
  
“Playa.” The Saint answered shortly, wondering how much he could keep to himself without the other getting suspicious.  
  
“Just Playa?”  
  
“That a problem?”  
  
“Nah, man, it’s cool.” Gat shrugged it off, obviously not too concerned with names. “Hey, watching you really got my blood pumpin’. Whatchu say we head in for another round? Been a while since I entered as a duo since I hate people dragging me down, but I gotta feeling that won’t be too much of a problem with you.”  
  
“Sorry, I have somewhere to be.” Playa answered quickly, knowing that there was no way he could enter the game with an enemy gang member. The moment he’d step into the course those commentators would certainly blow his cover. “Thanks for the offer though.”  
  
“Alright, sure. Next time.” If Gat was disappointed, he didn’t let it show. He did raise his hand to wave goodbye though, before he turned around to leave. “I’ll head back in then. See ya.”  
  
  
  
Playa watched him disappear through the entrance doors and pondered for a moment. He couldn’t help but feel curious about how the five-year champion of the Genki Bowls mastered the courses and decided to ask Pierce for assistance to find out once he was back at the penthouse.  
  
It turned out that the name “Johnny Gat” made it ridiculously easy to find not only a whole video library of his murderous feats, but a plethora of newspaper articles, websites, blog entries and more, all glorifying or demonizing the man in sunglasses. Gat was a legend. And Playa felt all the more relieved that the Morningstar hadn’t recognized him as a Saint back at the warehouse.  
  
  
“You know him?” Pierce asked as he looked up from the computer search.  
  
“Not really.” Playa answered, feeling like this wasn’t technically a lie.  
  
“Well, better keep it that way. I know we’ll have to go through him eventually when we want to take out the Syndicate, but _damn_ . This ain’t a motherfucker you wanna mess with.”  
  
“Alright. Thanks, Pierce.” The boss patted his friend on the shoulder and walked out onto the balcony for some fresh air, thoughts running wild between the Genki challenge, the Syndicate and  
  
“Johnny motherfucking Gat.” He mumbled to himself and looked down at the night-lit city. Something told him that he hadn’t seen the last of him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so it begins.


	3. The Angel and the Gambler

Day after day came and went as the Saints gathered and grew in Steelport. They had seized stores and armed up. Done their research on the local gangs and stirred up fights to make their presence known. But they still hadn’t gone up against Loren and the boss’ patience was wearing thin.   
  
Carlos’ ghost came to haunt his dreams whenever booze or exhaustion couldn’t keep them away, and Playa felt like he was going mad. More than he already was. It had been ten days since Carlos’ death. Eight days since they had taken the penthouse from the Morningstars. Seven days since he had let off steam at the Genki show. Seven days, also, since he had met Gat.   
  
After his unplanned participation in the show, Playa had done some research and found out that the warehouse wasn’t the only location where Professor Genki's Super Ethical Reality Climax was hosted. It seemed like there were several branches all throughout Steelport, that would welcome visitors anytime. And while every round was broadcast live into each branch’s lobby, only the best made it into national TV and were aired on Fridays.   
  
At first Playa had convinced himself he’d look into the show for mere research purposes, but the more he found out, the less he could deny that he had tasted blood and was longing for yet another murderous round.    
If he simply went to another branch, he probably wouldn’t run into Gat either. What harm was a little risky game here and there to keep his mind off things while his patience was tried?   
  
The nearest Dr. Genki location wasn’t too far away either and soon Playa drove his purple Vortex toward the location his GPS guided him to. It led him to another warehouse, though seemingly bigger than the last, that proudly sported the game’s logo above its entrance.    
  
  
  
Already familiar with the procedure, the Saint stepped out of his car and headed inside, his fingers already itching to meet the cold steel of his weapon. A confident smirk on his lips, he pulled the door open to step into the entrance hall, though his face froze the moment he spotted a figure at the other end of the room who was leisurely polishing his shotgun. Gat. What were even the odds of him being there, again, at the exact same time and location as the Saints’ boss himself!?   
  
Before he could turn around and leave again, the man had spotted him and lowered his weapon. _Great._   
  
“What are the odds?” Gat smirked and walked up to him. “Decided to check out the other venues?”   
  
“I know, right.” Playa answered, cursing whatever divine entity had considered this a funny joke to pull on him. “Yeah.”   
  
“I feel that.” Johnny laughed. “Once you taste blood, this game is like a drug. Can’t get enough of it. Yo, since you’re here, let’s go duo today! Whatchu say?”   
  
The Saint remembered very well how the commentators had brought all kinds of details on his life the last time he had entered, and while he was lucky enough that Gat had watched the game without sound, Playa knew he couldn’t expect that kind of fortune when the man was on the field with him.   
  
“I was planning on entering on my own, to be honest.”   
  
“Aw, come on. Murderin’s best when enjoyed in company. Even if you slow me down, I promise I won’t hold it against you.”   
  
“Slow you– Oh, you’re  _ on _ .” The Saint blurted out, before he could stop himself.  _ Shit _ .    
  
Gat’s eyes lay hidden behind dark glasses but his smirk gave away just how much he was looking forward to this.   
  
“Fuck yeah.” He turned to call towards the counter. “Hey, Tasha! Sign up my buddy here for a duo with me!”   
  
“Alright, Johnny!” The woman with green pig-tails smiled first at Gat, then beckoned Playa to come closer. “Just place your hand on the display over here and you’re good to go!”   
  
The Saint stepped closer but before he placed his hand on the display, he turned to Tasha, speaking low only for her to hear.    
  
“Hey, is it possible to enter anonymously?”   
  
“You don’t want people to know who you are?”   
  
“That’s what anonymously means, isn’t it?”   
  
Tasha looked at him for a moment in silence, a strange glint lying in the depths of her dark eyes. “So you’d like to enter with a pseudonym?”   
  
“That possible?”   
  
“Sure thing!” She smiled and pointed towards the display again. “I’ll need you to register through the display anyway.”   
  
“Alright.” Playa nodded and repeated the familiar process. For a brief moment the display flashed up but this time without revealing the man’s personal data.    
  
“You’re all set!” Tasha announced and opened the door to the waiting room. “Enjoy!”   
  
She seemed exceptionally giddy for some reason but Gat’s impatient voice behind him urged him to hurry up.   
  
“You done? Let’s get movin’ already.”   
  
  
  
The steel door shut behind them and the introduction video started playing on the same kind of mounted TV that Playa remembered from the other venue’s waiting room. A familiar thrill bubbled up inside him, only that this time he wasn’t alone.    
  
“Loser buys the other a beer?” Gat looked back at him teasingly and for a brief moment Playa forgot about the wariness he should have around the other.   
  
“Make that two.” He grinned back and readied his gun, just in time for the doors to slide open and the first bullets to cut through the air.   
  
  
  
“Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to another round of Professor Genki’s Super Ethical Reality Climax! Bobby, what can we expect in this arena today?”   
  
“Zach, this particular arena features a lot of fire, a lot of lightning, guns, and a lot of pain."    
  
"Haha, your favourite! In other words, a perfectly normal Genki arena."    
  
"That's right. And like any other arena, our contestant can pile up a mountain of cash in a hurry."   
  
“Or two slightly smaller mountains, Bobby, because today’s contestants signed up as a duo!”   
  
“It’s a rare sight. Especially since the pair involves none other than our legendary Genki Bowl champion Johnny Gat.”   
  
“I didn’t know that Gat did duos, Bobby. What do you think prompted that change of heart?”   
  
“Who knows, Zach. Maybe it’s a question of who.”   
  
“Who, indeed! Gat’s partner made the rare request to stay anonymous, so we’ll have to take some freedom when it comes to their background.”   
  
“So all statements about them may or may not be true, Zach.”   
  
“That’s right, Bobby. Like the fact that our contestant is a notorious arsonist from New York! From what I heard he even blew himself up once and spent years in a coma.”   
  
“No wonder there’d be a lot of pent-up energy, Zach. Imagine waking up and realizing that years have gone by without you noticing.”   
  
“I’m sure he’s glad to have found such an exciting outlet as Professor Genki’s arena, Bobby. I know I’d be.”   
  
“Not just you, Zach. And from the looks of it, Smokey’s not waiting to make up for lost time. This is really amazing shooting.”   
  
“That brings back memories… I once had a puppy called Smokey.”   
  
“Had? What happened to him?”   
  
“Let’s just say it lived up to its name. Here’s to hoping that the same fate doesn’t await our contestant!”   
  
  
  
“Smokey?” Gat asked with amusement as he shot down a bunny mascot. Playa rolled his eyes but found this was still way better than being found out as the Saints’ leader.   
  
“Shut up.” Playa took cover behind a pillar, waited for the hot dog man to run out of ammo, then jumped out and took him out. “Twenty-seven. Whatchu got?”   
  
“Thirty-two.” The other answered with a smug grin.   
  
“Fuck. Just you wait.” Playa ran ahead to the next wall, spotted another few mascots and landed three headshots in a row. “Thirty!”   
  
He looked back to Gat as if to tell him to watch his back. He would have caught up soon. Or so he thought.   
  
  
  
“That triggers the hunters!” Zach’s voice suddenly announced through the speakers. “Let’s see how our contestants will deal with these wild beasts, Bobby.”   
  
No sooner had he finished than a huge man holding a minigun came running their way.    
  
“That one’s mine!” Playa grinned and began to open fire on the brute. He didn’t seem to go down easily, however and the Saint had to jump to the side to dodge the tackle. Having run out of ammo, Playa quickly reloaded as he hid away behind one of the walls, then double-checked and saw that the hunter had lost sight of him. Perfect. Five shots to the head later, the huge man finally went down.    
  
The boss looked around for the next opponent when he spotted Gat aiming his gun right at him. His eyes widened. Had he been found out? Playa’s heart jumped to his throat. A shot was fired. He tried to shift to the left to avoid it, when the bullet flew past his ear and into something behind him that went down with a heavy thump. Someone had snuck up behind him and Gat had taken him out. Playa stared back at the Morningstar who gave him a thumbs up before he ran ahead. 

“...Fuck.” It took the Saint a brief moment to recover, then he followed his battle companion further into the arena. 

  
  
There was no denying that Gat was a formidable fighter. He took out enemy mascots by the dozens, avoided bullets with a grace unexpected from his sturdy physique and even as they neared the end of the course he had suffered little more than a few scratches. Playa didn’t look  _ much _ worse than him, but a sharp pain reminded him that a bullet had grazed his lower arm. The blow to his ego that followed was probably worse than his aching arm, however.   
  
“How many did you get?” Gat asked, as they walked through the exit doors, Zach’s excited voice announcing their victory.   
  
“Fifty-three.” Playa lied and Johnny raised an eyebrow. “...If the big guys count for five.”   
  
“Then I guess you owe me two beer, cause I got sixty-four.” Johnny’s smooth voice didn’t even make it sound like he was bragging and the Saint felt both insulted and impressed at the same time.   
  
“Fine.” Playa groaned and ran a hand through his hair. “Do you know a place?”   
  
“There’s a pretty nice bar nearby. Let’s go there.”   
  
“Alright. Lead the way.”   
  
As they walked out through the back, they could still hear Bobby’s voice roaring through the speakers.    
"Let’s hope we’ll get to see many more rounds with the new murdering dream team.”

  
  
  
“Ah. That really hit the spot.” Johnny sighed contentedly as he lowered the empty glass of beer he had just chugged. Playa sat next to Gat, a small smile on his own lips as he watched him. He knew he shouldn’t be there. Shouldn’t be doing this. But there was something about the man that exuded calmness and he couldn’t help but feel at ease, even when his mind was trying very hard to remind him that the Morningstar was his enemy. And a dangerous one, to boot. Somehow, right then, that didn’t really matter. Playa took a large sip of his own beer to wash down the thoughts.  
  
“Say, what’s your deal anyway?” Gat had turned to face him completely and tilted his head to the side. “People don’t usually pick up these kinds of skills outta nowhere, and they sure as hell are put to use _somewhere_ when they do. So what’s your story?”  
  
“I’d have to kill you if I told you.” Playa answered jokingly, though he wondered if Johnny knew how much truth lay behind those words.  
  
“You can try.” Johnny snorted. “You wouldn’t be the first and you can bet your ass you wouldn’t be the last either.”  
  
“Right.” The Saint replied with a lopsided smile but took another sip of beer to hide the tinge of discomfort the thought of actually having to go up against the other man brought him.   
  
“Alright, fine, then don’t tell me.” Gat shrugged and beckoned the barkeeper to bring him another beer. “Don’t really care ‘s long as you’re free again next week.”  
  
“What’s next week?” Playa asked but he could already guess what was on the other’s mind.  
  
“Next round, of course. That is, unless you’ve given up on beating me.”  
  
“Fuck no. Next week it is.” The Saint smirked and Johnny, obviously pleased, knocked his new glass against Playa’s.  
  
“To the best fucking game in the world.”  
  
“To the best fucking game in the world.” The Saints’ capo echoed and felt Johnny’s excitement infecting him, too.  
  
  
  
Playa had no sense for how long they had stayed at the bar, but when they parted ways, Steelport’s streets had grown dark and empty. The cool night air felt nice on the Saint’s blushed cheeks. _Next week._ The promise left a warm feeling in the depths of his stomach and, while it was probably because of the booze, he felt giddy for the first time in a long time.  
He knew he was playing with fire. He didn’t care. The only thing on his mind was the next round of Professor Genki’s Super Ethical Reality Climax.   
And meeting his murderous battle companion, Johnny Gat.


	4. The Belgian Problem

The time had come to take on Lauren. Playa, Shaundi and Pierce met up at the penthouse, geared up and made their way to the Syndicate tower, the sweet prospect of revenge almost in their grasp. Playa shot a glance to the passenger seat where Shaundi was holding her SMG tensely against herself.   
  
"You sure about this, Shaundi?" He asked, knowing that Carlos’ death had affected her at least as much as it had him.   
  
"Don't worry about me, I need this. Loren has to pay for what he did, and I wanna be there when he gets what he deserves." She answered coldly, held-back anger slipping into her voice as she spoke. Sure, Loren might not have been to pull the trigger, but if it hadn’t been for him, Carlos would still be alive, and she wasn’t going to forgive the Belgian for that.   
  
"No worries, girl. We're not stopping with Loren. We're takin' out his whole fucking Syndicate." Pierce made an attempt to cheer her up.   
  
"I think we'll need to do a little more than kill one guy to do that."    
  
"Why do you think we nicked a bomb?" Playa added and Shaundi approved in silence.   
  
Nevertheless a thought had snuck into his mind and had been gnawing at him ever since.  _ What if Gat was inside the tower? _ He couldn’t come up with a single possible satisfying outcome if that were the case. Either they’d have to shoot him down, or he would get blown up by the bomb they had stolen during the takeover of the Morningstar’s penthouse and were planning to use to now destroy the Syndicate tower. Either way, the Saints’ plan left no other option but for Gat to die… and for some reason that didn’t sit right with the boss.   
  
They had only met twice but Playa still felt a strange  _ connection _ to the other man. Perhaps it had been the shared beers, perhaps the bonding over murder or maybe the fact that Johnny had possibly saved his life once. Whatever it was, he felt  _ understood _ somehow, though they barely knew anything about each other. And if Gat found out that he was the leader of the Saints, Playa suspected that one of them would have to die.    
If only it never came to that... 

  
  
The boss had to stop this train of thoughts and was grateful when Pierce interrupted the silence in the car.   


"How hard you think finding Phillipe will be?"    
  
"Mastermind of a shadowy criminal organization? Gotta be the top floor." Playa answered, trying to find humor to hide his unease.   
  
"You think he's gonna be that cliche?"    
  
"Doesn't matter.... we're killing everyone in there..." Shaundi cut into their conversation and the uneasy weight in his chest grew once again.  _ Right _ … God, how he wished for Johnny not to be there.   
  
"The crew got the address... right?" He forced his thoughts away from Gat and back to their mission.   
  
"It's all taken care of. Soon as we make sure the loading dock is clear, they'll drive it in." Pierce assured, having planned the setting of the bomb in detail.   
  
“Alright. Let’s do this.” Playa nodded and drove the car into the Syndicate tower.   
  
  
  
To clear the loading dock, they had to take out a few dozen armed guards, and a freakishly big man that reminded the boss of the hunters at Genki’s. Once they had, the Saints’ reinforcements arrived, bringing with them the large bomb that would destroy the building.   
Playa activated the timer, then gave Pierce a nod who announced it to the other Saints.   
  
"The bomb's set and the clock's ticking!"   
  
Shaundi came running back to them, an upset frown on her face. "Why didn't we wait to do that until  _ after _ we kill Loren?"   
  
"That's... a really good question.” Pierce slowly admitted, the stupidity of their action dawning on him. “We should move."   
  
Knowing that time was quite literally ticking away now, the trio ran ahead and took the elevator up to the factory. At least that had been their intention when the lift suddenly shook to a halt and the doors opened again, floors below their actual destination.   
  
"Did you really expect to waltz right up to my office when I control the building?" Loren’s voice sounded through the speakers and no sooner than he had finished, more Syndicate goons appeared outside the elevator to halt their invasion.   
  
  
Unfazed, the trio shot their way through the guards and reached a huge hall with several steely staircases that divided it into multiple platforms. The red-tinted window facade to their right and unfamiliar apparatuses clogging the concrete room gave it an ominous aura, though it were the ovoid containers hanging from heavy metal fixtures that caught the Saints’ attention. Submerged in pink fluorescent fluid rested large human-like figures not unlike the brute they had shot down before.   
  
"What the fuck is this room?" Shaundi wondered aloud, eyes fixed on one of the glass containers. "Are those people in there?"   
  
"Looks like all those big guys we keep seeing.” Pierce answered, just as confused. “Clones?"    
  
"That would make sense." Playa mumbled to himself, earning himself a raised eyebrow from Shaundi.   
  
"What?"   
  
"OK, maybe 'makes sense' was too strong..." The boss admitted, managing to tear his attention off the strange sight and back to the enemy backup came running towards them.    
  
  
The Syndicate’s members weren’t too difficult to handle and Playa was about to get cocky, when suddenly the metal platform began to shake and one of the huge clones came dashing towards them, wielding a huge flamethrower as through it weighed nothing.   
  
“Careful!” The boss called to his friends who took cover in shock and tried to take out the large enemy from a distance. The brute wasn’t only strong but just as fast and, while Playa was glad its focus seemed to lie on him and not his comrades, he had a hard time juggling both shooting and maintaining a safe distance.    
  
The clone didn’t even flinch under the constant fire of the other two Saints as it chased their leader across the platforms, and Playa felt the murderous heat close behind him.  _ Fuck _ , he thought as he stormed up a set of stairs and saw more Syndicates approaching from the side.    
  
Pulling up his SMG he took out two of the six, then took cover behind an iron drum to reload. He pulled a grenade from his side and tossed it over to the enemies to take out the remaining four when he felt the brute’s heavy footsteps approach. Playa tried to run further but found himself at a dead end and spun around to watch the large figure approach rapidly. There was no escape. With his reloaded SMG, he opened fire on the clone, heart pounding in his chest as he saw the fire draw nearer. Only a few more steps and it would have reached him. Five steps.  _ Fuck. _ Four steps. He kept on firing. Three steps. He was  _ not _ going to go down like that. Two steps.   
  
“ _ WHO DO YOU THINK YOU’RE FUCKING WITH!? _ ” He yelled over the relentless gunfire.    
  
One step.    
  
Without prior warning, the huge figure suddenly dropped its weapon mid-run and collapsed before the Saint who stared at it wide-eyed, adrenaline rushing through his veins.   
  
“Boss! Are you alright!?” A panicking Shaundi came running up the stairs towards him, followerd closely by Pierce. He answered with a weird chuckle.   
  
“Yeah. Let’s go find Loren.”   
  
  


As they followed the topmost platform out of the giant hall, they were confronted with yet another unusual sight, however. Trapped with both his feet in one and his hands in two separate pink-glowing orbs, a huge, naked person was suspended above them. He was the spitting image of the arsonist they had battled before, but when the mountain of a man lifted his head to look at them, an intelligence lay in his eyes that the other man’s had lacked. 

"What the hell is all this?" Playa thought aloud as he stared up at the giant and was surprised when he was actually met with an answer.   
  
"Phillipe likes his things custom-made… And for his brutes, I am the master pattern, you see."   
  
"... Why you still strung up if they already cloned your ass?" Pierce spoke up once he had overcome his initial surprise.   
  
"The copies are flawed. They have my brawn but not my brain.” The naked man replied before making an unexpected offer. “I  _ can _ help you."   
  
"The last time a big naked dude said he could help me, it did not end well." Pierce lowly voiced his concern to his boss and Shaundi agreed with his skepticism.   
  
"What could he do anyway? Those wires and shit are probably keeping him alive." She said, looking up at the handful of cables that ran from a large machine into the stranger’s back.   
  
"Trust me, I'm still strong enough to kill Phillipe." The large man objected with absolute determination. Pierce and Playa exchanged a silent glance, then drew their weapons to fire at the machinery that detained the giant until sparks jumped out of it and the huge stranger pulled himself free with brute strength.   
Playa really hoped the big guy would stay on their good side.   
  
"You want some clothes, man?" Pierce asked hesitantly as he looked up at the naked man who rolled his sore shoulders and neck beside them.    
  
"No time." He answered and already began to jog ahead to the elevator that would take them to the offices.   
  
"Man, like I said, the last time a big naked dude..." Pierce trailed off when Playa and Shaundi immediately followed the stranger, not half as disturbed by the naked physique as he himself was.   
  
  
  


"Seriously man, if you want I can find you, like... a curtain or something." Pierce didn’t let the matter go, even after they had stepped back out of the elevator and the giant was leading them to Loren’s office.   
  
"The human body is nothing to be ashamed of, unless you have...  _ insecurities _ ."   
  
"I'm good..." Pierce answered with as much persuasive power as he could muster but Playa cut into their exchange, realizing that they still had no idea who they were actually dealing with.   
  
“And you would be…?”   
  
"My name is Oleg Kirrlov..." The man answered briefly and Shaundi tried to dig deeper.   
  
"And... what did you do before you were a glorified pin cushion?"   
  
"I think it best for our friendship I never elaborate. Just know that the enemy of your enemy is your friend. As long as you oppose the Syndicate you have nothing to fear from me."    
  
The Saints accepted that it would be better not to pry any more and decided to leave it at that. No one wanted to piss off an 8-feet-tall mass of muscle that could fight  _ and _ think.   


"Works for me.” Playa shrugged it off, glad enough to have found a valuable ally. “Welcome to the Saints."   
  
  
  
"Loren's office is this way!" Oleg announced as they rushed through the office building and, just as they ran around the corner into a circular hall, Loren stepped into an elevator, doors closing before the Saints could reach him.   
  
"Damn it!" Playa spat out, slamming a frustrated first against the elevator doors.   
  
"That's an express elevator to the basement…” Oleg explained. “There's no way to catch him."   
  
"Fuck. That." The boss snarled and looked around for a solution.    
  
They found themselves in a round room. Several doors and elevators led in and out of it but Loren had taken the only express elevator. That wouldn’t do. They needed something faster. A circular balustrade fenced off the large hole in its center. It seemed to reach many floors below. Above it hung a large ball-shaped counterweight. There was a handle on it’s underside. Jackpot.   
  
Playa fell into a sprint and leaped over the railing, caught the ball’s handle in his grip and shouted over to his gang members. 

"Cut this loose! We're going to smash that smug fucker!" They immediately understood.   
  
"Leave it to me.” Oleg answered and began to work on the steel wires holding the ball in place. Meanwhile dozens of Syndicates flooded their and the lower floors to shoot at him.    
  
  
Playa freed one hand to shoot the oncoming enemies. Shaundi helped out on his floor while Pierce had headed down to take care of the goons shooting at their boss from below. Unable to dodge in his current situation, the boss was lucky enough the Syndicates in charge didn’t seem to be particularly good shots and at this rate, he found, they would have taken them out before having suffered any major damage themselves. That would be no use to them if Loren managed to escape, however.   
  
"He's getting away! Now!" Playa shouted only a moment before his voice got caught in his throat.    
  
Right there, in the doorway through which the Syndicates had entered, stood a dark-haired man with sunglasses and stared at him. Playa froze in place, his heart pounding all air out of his lungs and rushing the blood through his ears so loudly that it drowned out all noise inside the room.  _ No _ . Time seemed to have slowed down. For what felt like an eternity their eyes were locked in absolute stillness, neither of them making even the slightest movement. The world around them had vanished completely. Then, slowly, the man raised his gun and pointed it right at him.  _ NO _ .   
Playa’s eyes widened.    
  
"Done!" Oleg shouted as the large counterweight suddenly came loose and plunged downwards. Playa heard a shot bounce off the metal above him. He fell and his mind was blank.   
  
  
  
The large ball crashed down the stories, breaking through whatever stood in its way until it finally slammed against the basement floor, effectively crushing Loren under it.    
  
It would have been a hell of a ride and something to brag about for years to come, if Playa’s mind hadn’t been somewhere else entirely.    
  
"Dammit. I should've thought of a Belgian Pancake joke..." He tried to joke to himself, but it felt stale and heavy instead.  _ Fuck _ .   
  
  
  
It didn’t take long for Pierce and the others to catch up to him and join his side.   
  
"Time to blow this place to hell..." Shaundi said, still out to destroy whatever stood in relation to the Syndicate but Oleg objected.    
  
"I hate this place more than anyone but it would be folly to destroy Phillipe's research without seeing what we can harvest from it."   
  
"We came here to send a message, didn't we?" She answered in annoyance. Knowing she couldn’t be convinced, the Russian turned to Playa instead.   
  
"Why not keep the building for yourself?"   
  
"Your choice here, boss." Pierce shrugged, deciding not to take sides in this discussion. All eyes were on the Saints’ boss but there was only one thing on his mind.  _ Gat was still in the building. _   
  
  
“We’re keeping it.” He announced promptly as he walked over to the bomb to disarm it.   
  
“Good call.” Oleg agreed, overshadowing Shaundi’s exasperated sigh.   
  
_ Was it really though _ , the Saint asked himself, knowing full well that he was throwing away his best chance to get rid of the legendary Morningstar. But despite that, he just couldn’t have killed off the other man that way. It felt cowardly and unfair and, after the man had saved his life once, this was the least he could do to repay him.   
  
“We’re even now, Gat.” Playa mumbled to himself.   
  
“You say something, boss?”   
  
“Nah. But maybe you should get your ears checked, Pierce.” The capo answered, putting on a teasing smirk, and gave his friend’s shoulder a pat. “Let’s check out our newest acquisition.”   
  
The crew nodded and followed him back upstairs, where the Saints’ reinforcements were set already to take out whoever hadn’t followed the remaining Morningstars into retreat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading and a huge thank you to those leaving kudos. They are very much appreciated and seriously motivating. <3


	5. A Rush Of Blood To The Head

The days to Playa’s Genki-date with Gat drew nearer and while the other Saints did not know of his engagement, they still felt that something was off with their unusually irritable boss. Especially his closer friends had expected the successful revenge in the form of Loren’s death to bring him some sort of solace but instead Playa seemed even more restless than before. They did not know the inner battle he was fighting nor the question that weighed ever so heavily on his mind:  _ Should he go to the agreed meeting? _

He knew that Johnny had to be  _ furious _ to have been fooled about the identity of the Saints’ leader. The shot that would have ended him, had Oleg not cut loose the ball-shaped counterweight  _ just in time _ , was proof enough of that. So was honoring their arrangement the equivalent of willingly tying a noose around his own neck?

The Saint wondered how Gat would react if he showed up. Would he shoot him on sight or give him a chance to talk? If so, what would they even talk about? Whatever justification Playa could possibly come up with did not change the fact that they were chess pieces of two opposite colours battling on the same board. They could not coexist. If one stepped into the reach of the other, one of them would have to die.

Despite knowing all this, and despite knowing full well of Gat’s ruthless nature, the boss couldn’t bring himself to simply ignore the promise he had made. Sure, he had kept his identity secret, but he had never actually  _ lied _ to the other, and standing him up would not only make him feel like a liar but a coward as well. Because something told him that Johnny  _ would _ be there.

It left him no choice. He  _ had  _ to go.

  
  


Nervosity made his heart flutter as he parked his car in front of the third venue of Professor Genki’s show, and he tried to ready himself with a deep breath before he finally stepped outside. It was time.

Playa could feel his pulse drum in his ears with every step he took towards the warehouse’s entrance, and as his hand wrapped around the steel handle he wondered when he had last felt that way. Perhaps it had been before his first major heist as a gang member. Or perhaps not even then. Playa couldn’t even remember.

He forced himself to push the door open and wasn’t surprised when the first thing he saw was Gat, standing at the other end of the room, whatever emotions he felt concealed by his dark glasses. He didn’t smile, he didn’t approach the Saint. All he did was stare and after a few moments Playa felt the silence weigh on him uncomfortably. Carefully he walked over to the receptionist, a blue-haired girl with heavy eye makeup, and spoke up.

“I’m here to sign up.” 

“Duo.” Gat added curtly, his voice as unreadable as his gaze.

The woman hesitantly looked from Johnny back to Playa and made a small nod before pointing to the display at her left.

“Anonymously again…?” She asked much to Playa’s surprise but he figured that the workers either had a detailed database which held a history of each contestant or were very much into gossip. Perhaps both.

Playa felt Gat’s gaze in his neck but nodded anyway.   
  
“Yeah.”   
  
Even if he didn’t have to hide his identity from Johnny anymore, he knew that two opposing gangs working together in a game show wasn’t an image either of them should convey.

“Alright then. You’re all set.” The woman announced, nervous eyes briefly shooting to the Morningstar and back again. “...Good luck.”

  
  


The time they spent alone in the waiting room felt like an eternity and even the introduction video didn’t seem to help fill the suffocating tension between them. Playa wondered if he should say something. They hadn’t exchanged a single word yet…   
  
“Liste–”   
  
A gunshot cut him off and the Saint stared at the steel door Johnny had fired against to shut him up. Okay, so no talk.    
  
Gat stared ahead, seemingly ignoring the other’s presence, though his tense muscles and clenched up fists gave away that he was anything but calm. The moment the timer ran out, he stormed out of the room and went on a rampage. 

  
  
Playa had never seen anything like it before. One enemy after the next went down as the Morningstar landed headshot after headshot without taking any time to aim. The moment a new mascot appeared, Gat took it out and ran ahead for the next.   
It all happened so fast, the Saints’ leader couldn’t land a single kill when Johnny’s body count was already in the dozens. It was incredible.    
  
It was hard not to stand and watch in awe as the scene before him unfolded, but Playa reminded himself of the ongoing competition between the two men and forced himself ahead too. Johnny was a formidable fighter, but so was he.   
  
The Saint’s aim couldn’t compete with Gat’s craze, but he finally managed to get some kills in, himself. Meanwhile the commentators, too, had trouble processing the speed at which this round was being fought.  
  
  
“Have you ever seen anything like that, Bobby?”   
  
“Sure haven’t, Zach. Gat seems to be possessed by the god of war himself, and Smokey is killing them by the dozens as well.”   
  
“This might be our craziest round yet! But how long do you think they’ll manage to keep up that speed?”   
  
“I don’t know, Zach, but the hunters are already on their way to stop them.”   
  
  
Four giant brutes broke into the hall at once, loaded with miniguns and rushing towards them. Playa managed to take one out before he had to run away and take cover. From the corner of his eye he saw Gat stuff a grenade into another hunter’s mouth and blow his head to bits. Despite the sunglasses, he felt the Morningstar look back at him and a rush of adrenaline shot up to his head. A smirk stretched across his face.  _ It was time to step up his game. _   
  
  
Playa took out the remaining two brutes before Johnny could snatch the kills away from him and matched his pace as they ran forward and into the next hall. The adrenaline had washed away his concern about the Morningstar and his admiration for the man’s skill. All that was left was the rush of murder and the exciting knowledge that his body count was beginning to catch up to his rival’s. He didn’t even care that Johnny’s shots were aimed dangerously close to him, always missing him barely to take out an enemy at the other side of the room. Did he try to threaten him? If so he was obtaining the opposite effect. The Saint admired his precision that never actually hit him and felt eager to impress the other as well.   
  
  
A shot missed Johnny’s hip by an inch to take down an enemy behind him and for a brief moment the man halted to stare at Playa. Had that pissed him off? Or was he impressed? Playa couldn’t tell and a moment later Gat was back at headshotting enemies.    
Again and again the two men would almost shoot each other, always hitting a target behind the other to justify their action. And every time it sent a wave of manic excitement through the Saint that almost felt like a drug. It drowned out all thoughts. It drowned out all worries. It drowned out all emotions except the feral pleasure and adrenaline that pushed him further into that high.   
  
  
  
His mind was a blur when he took down a brute and, following Gat’s example, blew off his head with a grenade. His mind was a blur when the blood that colored his skin red was mixed with his own from a graze shot on his shoulder. His mind was a blur when they finally stumbled through the exit door and the doors slid shut behind them. His mind was a blur when a sudden force threw him against the wall and pressed a gun against his jaw. His mind was a blur when hot, angry breaths infiltrated his own. And his mind was a blur when he grabbed the bloody figure by the collar and crashed his lips against theirs.   
  
The gun pushed harder against his jaw, then trailed down his neck, all while lips moved hungrily against each other, teeth colliding clumsily here and there, as both men let themselves be overwhelmed by carnal desire.   
  
Then, suddenly, Gat pulled away and stepped back to put some distance between them.   
  
  
“The fuck is this.” He asked, his voice hoarse under his heavy breaths.   
  
Playa, whose mind was only slowly coming down from its adrenaline high, stared blankly at him for a moment and still needed to process everything that had just happened. Everything he had just done. Everything that was going on inside his mind and inside his pants. ... _ Fuck. _   
  
  
  
“Hear me out.” The Saint started and, unlike before, Johnny crossed his arms and gave him a chance to talk. “I didn’t keep quiet about who I am to fuck with you. I mean in the… messing… kind of sense…” Playa trailed off, their intense kiss offering a possible interpretation of his words that he had not intended. He cleared his throat and tried again. “I didn’t keep quiet to mess with you. I didn’t even plan to run into you again after our first meeting. But then you were at Genki’s again, wanting to go duo… There wasn’t really a chance to tell you, even if I’d wanted to. Which I didn’t, to be honest. Not to mess with you though, but because I knew you’d try to kill me if you found out and then  _ this _ would be over.”   
  
“ _ This _ ?”   
  
“The Genki duos. Believe it or not, I’d actually looked forward to today until shit had gone down.” He said, referring to the moment Gat had run into him at the Syndicate tower.   
  
  
Once again Johnny remained quiet, the gears turning behind those dark sunglasses of his, until he finally uncrossed his arms and turned towards the exit.   
  
“Let’s call it a tie this time. I need a shower anyway. And you should take care of  _ that _ .”   
  
Playa stared at him in disbelief.    
  
“Wait, what do you mean  _ this time _ ? Will there be a next?” Gat didn’t turn around.   
  
“Next week. Same place, same time.” And with those words the Morningstar stepped outside, leaving the boss behind on his own.   
  
  
Once he was by himself, one realization after the next sunk in and sent the Saint on an emotional rollercoaster. Johnny wasn’t going to kill him just yet. That was better than any outcome he had dared to hope for. And to top it off, he had told him to meet him again the following week. Anticipation bubbled up inside his chest, only to turn into shock when he also remembered that he had kissed Gat. And that his body had reacted… And that Gat had noticed.    
Playa felt heat rise up to his cheeks as he glanced down on himself. As Johnny had said, he would have to take care of that.    
  
When the Saint drove back home a little later, his blood-covered appearance earned him quite a few terrified looks but the happy capo couldn’t care less.

  
  


Once again Playa started counting down the days to his Genki-date with Gat. And while the other Saints did not know of his engagement, they still felt that something was off with their unusually good-humored boss. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TLDR; Gat and Playa are both batshit crazy and deserve one another.


	6. The Humbling River

After the boss’ involuntary “coming out” to Gat, a strange routine settled in.   
Of course the Saints continued to aggressively work on their city take-over, growing in numbers and valuable members alike. The addition of former FBI agent and technical genius Kinzie Kensington was a great asset to their team that opened a whole new range of possibilities for their cause and took their information procurement to another level.   
The rescue of whoremonger Zimos resulted in the acquisition of yet another important ally whose connections to the criminal underworld provided the Saints with invaluable information on Syndicate operations. And of course Oleg, whose genius and brute strength were priceless, in and out of battle.  
  
There was only one thing that could compete with the thrill of the Saints’ rise to power under the capo’s command: His secret reunions at Professor Genki’s with Gat. Weekly at first, their meetings soon turned biweekly as their impatience and thirst for adrenaline grew.  
  
  
They hadn’t exchanged numbers. Every new appointment was set at the end of the one before, usually after a round of store-bought beers shared at the back of the Genki warehouse. So far for the Saint’s account only.   
They hadn’t frequented the bar Gat had taken him to after their first duo round, nor had they gone anywhere else after their murderous get-togethers since then, which made sense. Playa didn’t know how things were on Johnny’s end, but it seemed that none of the other Saints had taken notice of his secret meetings with the opposing gang member so far - and he felt like neither of them wanted that fact to change.  
  
When the duo sat on the curb, shrouded by the darkness of Professor Genki’s poorly-lit parking lot, they didn’t talk about gang business. Johnny hadn’t brought it up again and Playa knew better than to touch on that sensitive topic himself. They hadn’t broached the kiss either and, while the Saint had crossed the arena’s finish line with a mix of nervousness and anticipation the first few times that followed, nothing of the sort had occurred again. Strangely enough he found it somewhat disappointing.   
  
  
_Cross that thought,_ the capo scolded himself and took another greedy sip from his beer, eyes observing the man next to him with secret admiration.  
  
It was silly. They barely knew each other and what they _did_ know should have been enough to split their paths forever. But despite that knowledge the duo kept meeting up, kept playing and drinking together, and whenever they shared conversations and beer in the privacy of the night, Playa felt more comfortable than anywhere else in the world.   
  
Sometimes they would talk about that day’s Genki challenge, sometimes they would share anecdotes from the past. Sometimes they just sat in quiet contentedness and sometimes they would speak for hours without pause. Usually Playa did most of the talking but every once in a while Gat would lead the conversation, and whenever he did, the Saint would hang on his every word, savouring the sound of Johnny’s smooth voice.   
_How could such a dangerous man own such a soothing voice?_  
  
  
  
“Yo, it’s getting late. I better head back.” Gat interrupted Playa’s thoughts and set down his empty bottle before he pushed himself off the ground. The capo glanced at his watch and realized that they had been sitting outside for two hours already. To him, it had felt like a fraction of that. “Same time, Monday?”  
  
“How about tomorrow?” The Saint suggested before he could stop himself. He knew the more frequently they’d meet, the riskier it would become, but he was too impatient and enjoyed their meetings too much to wait another three days for the next. Gat hesitated and Playa began to regret his overzeal.   
  
“...I got plans tomorrow.” Johnny answered and the capo hoped that the dim light would hide the disappointment on his face. “How ‘bout Sunday?”  
  
“Good enough.” Playa answered and finished his bottle before straightening up as well.   
  
“Sunday it is.” Gat nodded and gave his shoulder a pat before he walked past him towards a black and red car. “See ya then.”  
  
Playa watched him leave, once again unable to place his feelings.   
  
  
  
Eventually he pulled out his phone and noticed that Kinzie had called him a while ago. Knowing that she didn’t like discussing important matters over the phone and also never seemed to sleep, he decided to pay her a late-night visit. At least it would help him redirect his thoughts to something that wasn’t Gat. _Just what kinds of plans did he have the next day? Was he meeting someone? Was it for business, pleasure or… both?_ Part of him wished he had asked, but he suspected that, if Gat hadn’t told him, there was a reason.   
  
He was glad when he had finally reached Kinzie’s warehouse and could put his roaming thoughts to a halt.  
  
  
  
“You called?” Playa announced his presence as he walked into the hacker’s hideout.  
  
“Boss... Didn’t expect to still drop by today.” The redhead answered, slowly spinning around in her chair to look at him. She seemed strangely tense.  
  
“Figured it might be important. So what’s up?”  
  
“It actually is. I’ve been tracking the Deckers’ movements and it seems like they’re preparing a major heist to take back Brickston.”  
  
“When’s that?”  
  
“Most likely tomorrow afternoon, from what I could find out.” _Tomorrow_. No, that couldn’t be what Johnny’s ‘plans’ were all about, could it?   
  
“Are you sure it’s the Deckers?” _And not the Morningstars_ , he added in thoughts and was taken aback when Kinzie suddenly snapped at him.  
  
“I’m sorry, would you rather sit down and spend a few hours double-checking while _I_ go off and participate in a broadcasted gaming show with _Johnny Gat_?” When Playa stared back at her in surprise, she continued. “Oh _come_ _on_ , you can’t seriously be surprised. It was literally broadcasted nationwide!”  
  
“...Who else knows?” He asked carefully and the way Kinzie rolled her eyes already answered his question before her words did.  
  
“Uh, everyone who has a TV or internet connection? I can’t believe you honestly thought that this could stay a secret. I mean, ‘ _Smokey’?_ If you really wanted to go undercover, you could’ve at least hit up an Image As Designed before showing your face on cam _with our enemy?_ Did you even _listen_ when I told you about laying low!?”  
  
“Hey, I didn’t choose that name–” Playa tried to object against at least one of the charges but Kinzie merely let out an exasperated sigh and turned away to face her screens again.   
“... Okay, fine, so everybody knows. Why is now my first time hearing about this?”  
The few Saints he had passed by on his way to Kinzie’s warehouse hadn’t acted any different than usual.  
  
“ _Are you serious?_ ” Kinzie sent him a look of disbelief over her shoulder before typing away at her keyboard. Something flashed up on one of the screens and she turned it for her boss to get a better look. It was a video with the caption ‘SAINTS BOSS and JOHNNY GAT BLOODBATH @ PROF GENKI SERC’. “You think _anyone_ would want to get involved with _this_?”  
  
  
  
What followed was a compilation of stabbing, headshots and exploding heads - the carnage Johnny and he had caused on their first meeting after Loren’s assassination - but while Kinzie had opened the video to prove a point, her superior watched the recording with a growing smile on his face.  
  
“Hey, that’s pretty good. Are there comments on this? What do people say?” He asked with childlike excitement that earned him a shove against his shoulder.  
  
“Are you for real? _Hello?_ Do you have any idea what kind of light that casts on you? _On us?_ It’s only been a few hours since this aired but people are already _talking_.”  
  
“And what are they saying?” Kinzie hesitated before she answered, much more carefully than before.  
  
“That you’re in cahoots with the enemy. That you can’t be trusted and… that you’re a ticking time bomb...”  
  
“They say that over a fucking game?” Playa asked calmly, still contemplating how serious the situation was.  
  
“It’s not just about the game to them, boss.” Kinzie sighed, her eyes on the screen to avoid the man’s glare. “Everyone is working hard to fight against the Syndicate… and then they see you on TV, having fun with the guy who murdered so many of their friends… It’s only natural they feel betrayed.”  
  
  
  
The sound of the capo’s ringtone interrupted their conversation and when he saw Pierce’s name flash on the screen, it was easy to guess the reason for his call.  
  
“Hey Pier–”  
  
“Please tell me the reason why you were so curious about Johnny Gat was not so that you could go play Professor Genki’s Super Ethical Reality Climax him.”   
  
“I mean… I’m not lying if I say that I hadn’t planned on it yet at the time.”  
  
“Please tell me you didn’t really go play Professor Genki’s Super Ethical Reality Climax with Johnny Gat.”  
  
“Pierce, do you really have to say the full name of the show every single tim–”  
  
“Boss, _please_. That wasn’t you, right? It was a doppelganger posing as you to stir things up among the Saints? Probably some wicked scheme by the Syndicate – that’s something I can sell to the media, but _please_ tell me that was _not_ you.”  
  
“Do you want me to lie?”  
  
“Will I be able to sleep again if you do? Then yes, please, lie. To me. To the media. To anyone who asks. You’ve never been to Professor Genki’s Sup–… to Professor Genki’s. You’ve never even met Johnny Gat in person. If anyone asks you’ve been at–… Where are you right now?”  
  
“At Kinzie’s.”  
  
“Perfect. If anyone asks you’ve been at Kinzie’s. We cool?”  
  
“...”  
  
“ _Boss_. Please don’t–”  
  
“Yeah, alright, _fine_.”  
  
“Okay, good. I gotta hang up now, I’m getting a call from Channel 6… And please, remember–”  
  
“Never played Genki. Never met Gat. Been at Kinzie’s. Fuck the Syndicate. Right?”  
  
“...right. I’ll call you back.”  
  
  
  
With that Pierce hung up and Playa looked up to meet Kinzie’s puzzled gaze.  
  
“What?”  
  
“I don’t get it. I mean… you must’ve known that this was a terrible idea. So why risk so much over a stupid reality TV show?”  
  
“You wouldn’t get it.” Playa mumbled, immediately regretting his choice of words that seemed to be a trigger to the woman who prided herself on her high intelligence.  
  
“Why, because I’m a technical genius who’s only saved your ass about a dozen times, developed a software for you to track your enemies, constantly helps you gain valuable information to gain the upper hand, and still has your back even though it was just revealed that you happily hung out with the very people we are working against? Or maybe it’s because it’s a _man thing_?”  
  
“Whow, that’s not what I-... It’s just kind of complicated.”  
  
“Try me. It’s not like you should leave here anytime soon, given the PR mess you’ve caused.”  
  
Admitting that she was right, Playa sighed and dropped himself onto the empty chair to Kinzie’s right.  
  
  
  
  
“So you’re saying at first you went along because you felt cornered, then on a whim to maintain your macho pride and in the end because you actually started to enjoy not only the game but hanging out with Gat afterwards?”  
  
“Gee, Kinzie, why didn’t you tell me you wanted the 10-second version of the story?”   
  
She ignored her boss’ sarcastic tone and, having turned around on her chair during their talk, she rested her chin on her folded arms on top of the backrest.  
  
“Okay, but _why_? I can understand craving for the challenge’s adrenaline rush but what made you want to grab a beer and hang out with the guy who’s one of the biggest hindrances in your own plans? Did you think you could talk him into surrendering or switching sides?”  
  
“We didn’t talk gang business.” Playa answered with a shrug, not quite sure of his own motives himself. “And I know it sounds weird but it just felt like the right thing to do.”  
  
“Hanging out with the guy who murders your own people.”  
  
“If you put it that way, nah, of course not. But that wasn’t really on my mind when we hung out.” Kinzie raised an eyebrow.  
  
“Then what was?”  
  
Immediately Playa’s thoughts jumped back to their kiss and he cleared his throat to nip his embarrassment in the bud.   
  
“Not much.”  
  
“I can see that…” Kinzie commented slowly, suspicious eyes observing her boss.  
  
“It just felt like hanging out with an old friend. Someone’s who’s on the same wavelength and who just _gets you_ , without much being said.”  
  
“An old friend who kills your other friends.”  
  
“Do you want me to talk about this or not?” Playa sent her a mildly annoyed look.  
  
“Sorry. Keep going.”  
  
  
  
Playa took a deep breath as he tried to make sense of his thoughts and looked up into nothingness as he attempted to put them into words.  
  
“It just felt like, if it wasn’t for our colours, we’d be unstoppable. And I guess that’s why I kept going, even though I knew we’ll eventually have to go up against each other.”  
  
Kinzie watched him in silence and, strangely enough, her skeptical look had melted into one of understanding. Without another word, she turned back around to face her computer screens and her fingers were once again swiftly moving across the keyboard.  
  
“There’s a couch in the lobby next door. You can rest there if you want.” She said, her back turned towards him.  
  
“Alright, thanks.” Playa answered, interpreting that Kinzie had gotten a satisfactory answer out of him and was now kindly asking him to leave her to her work.   
  
He lifted himself off the chair and moved past the computers and screens when Kinzie’s voice held him back for a moment longer.  
  
“Boss?” He turned around and saw that she, too, had briefly looked over her shoulder to meet his eyes. “I’m sorry.”  
  
Before Playa could ask what exactly Kinzie was sorry for, she had returned her attention to the computers and placed a set of large headphones over her ears.  
  
“Alright…” The capo mumbled to himself and finally walked over to the lobby where he lowered himself onto the old couch the hacker had offered him.   
  
  
  
For a long time he lay awake, wondering what exactly Kinzie had meant with her words, how Pierce was handling the media that were probably overflowing with the newest gossip about the Saints and if Johnny Gat was in trouble too, now that their secret meetings had been found out and publicly exposed.  
And what about Sunday? Was their meeting cancelled? Or would Johnny show up anyway? Would he himself find an opening to go? God, did Playa want to go.   
  
_Johnny Gat…_ If only he hadn’t been a Morningstar. None of this would have been an issue. They could have met freely, enjoyed their beers in the cozy pub they had been to only once and, best of all, they wouldn’t have been forced to fight each other. If anything, Playa felt sorry about that, and as he drifted off into a restless sleep, the capo wondered if Kinzie had meant the same.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one was a real struggle, writer's block and all, but we made it through, folks!
> 
> Let's just hope Playa will make it through his struggle as well.


	7. Killing In the Name

The PR disaster turned out worse than the Saints’ boss had anticipated but, if Pierce’s words were to be believed, not nearly as bad as it could have. The second-in-command had given an official press statement denying the fact that their leader had been involved with Johnny Gat and that whoever had entered the challenge with the Morningstar had to have been a doppelganger out to tarnish the capo’s reputation.    
The claim was accepted with relief by some, rejected with skepticism by others, but at the very least it cast some doubt upon the recording that had gone viral overnight.    
  
It didn’t sit right with Playa to have someone else take the credit for his amazing performance on the show, but after Pierce had practically begged him to keep the bigger picture in his mind, the capo reluctantly accepted the stolen fame.   
Besides, if Kinzie’s research proved to be right, they would have to deal with the Deckers soon enough to keep their dominance over Brickston.   
  
  
  
The Saints came well-prepared and, while the battle between the two gangs wasn’t as fast as Playa had hoped, it felt almost too easy to keep the black-and-blue punks at bay. A mid-fight phone call shed some light upon the ‘why’.   
  
“Boss! The Morningstars are invading Loren Square!” Shaundi’s voice called, the sound of gunfire in the background.   
  
“What!? How could that happen!?”   
  
“It looks like the Syndicate coordinated the two attacks and leaked information about Brickston on purpose. We’re trying to hold the line but– ngh! You son of a bitch!” A few gunshots could be heard before she spoke up again. “But I don’t know how long we’ll manage to keep this up. They’re led by Gat and our numbers are dropping fast.”   
  
  
A strange sensation shot through the capo and for a moment his senses were numbed. So it had really come. The day that they could no longer ignore their backgrounds and pretend that there was even the slightest possibility for as little as friendship between the two men. Having been found out about their Professor Genki meetings was one thing. Playa had considered following Kinzie’s involuntary advice and changing his appearance to keep going. To keep meeting Gat. But now Playa could no longer disregard that they were very much on two different sides of a war, actively working against each other. It made him dizzy. It made him sick. Of course, he should have seen it coming. It had been the only possible outcome all along. But still… He remembered Gat’s soothing voice and his amused chuckle. The way his heart had warmed in the man’s presence and how his body had longed for a little more ever since their heated kiss.   
  
  
“-boss? … Boss!” Shaundi’s impatient voice dragged him out of his thoughts and back into the loud reality of the battle that was going on around him.   
  
“Fall back.” He ordered over the phone, trying to ignore the heavy feeling inside his chest.    
  
“But boss-...”   
  
“We’re too far away to back you up in time and we can’t afford to lose any more manpower. Fall back and let’s regroup back at the penthouse. We’re almost done here.”   
  
“Got it.” Shaundi agreed and he hung up to focus on the battle at hand.    
  
So that’s what Johnny’s plans for Saturday had been all along, Playa figured bitterly. Even before their collaboration at Genki’s had been made public, the Morningstar had planned to go up against the Saints, and, even as they had sat together sharing some beers, he hadn’t bothered to let his friend know about it or give him a single word of warning. Perhaps their friendship had been one-sided, the capo thought hurt and anger bubbling up inside him.   
If there was one thing he could not forgive, it was betrayal. And having been lulled into a false sense of friendship and comfort only to be stabbed in the back felt familiar… and was by far the worst kind.   
  
He would find Johnny Gat, he promised himself. And he would end him.

  
  


  
Playa counted down the hours to their meeting the next day and when it was time to leave, he made sure he was armed to the teeth. He was serious about his plan.   
  
“Where are you going, boss?” Pierce asked, looking up from the fashion magazine he had been browsing through.    
  
“To kill Johnny Gat.”   
  
Pierce almost dropped the journal.    
  
“Wai– Hold on a minute, for real!?” The second-in-command knew the answer without Playa having to tell him. He knew the look in his boss’ eye. He jumped out of his chair and pulled his phone out of his jacket. “Lemme ‘round up some guys, we’ll need all the help we can get if we’re going up against  _ him _ –.”   
  
“No.” Playa interrupted him. “I’m going alone.”   
  
“You can’t be serious–…” He earned a glare. “Okay, you  _ are _ serious, but it’s  _ Johnny Gat _ we’re talking about, boss! The guy who smokes a dozen heavily armed troopers without taking a single scratch! Let me find you  _ some _ backup at least?”   
  
“ _ No. _ ” He repeated and this time his voice left no room for protest. “This is personal. You send anyone after me I’ll expose your little lie about the doppelganger.”   
  
Pierce looked away, clearly uncomfortable to let his boss walk away by himself, but he knew better than to oppose a direct order from their notorious leader.   
  
“Promise me you won’t get yourself killed?”   
  
“I wish you had a little more faith in me, Pierce. But yeah, I’m not planning to bite it just yet.”   
  
With that, Playa left his nervous friend behind and took the elevator down to the garage. He chose an inconspicuous car with tinted windows instead of his purple Vortex to avoid unwanted attention, then, as fast as he could, he made his way over to the warehouse of Professor Genki’s Super Ethical Reality Climax.

  
The capo stopped his car in the dimly-lit parking lot and looked over to the warehouse. Knowing Gat, it could be the end of the world and he would still be standing in the lobby, send him one of his ridiculously charming smirks and pretend that nothing had happened, his true motives hidden behind his dark glasses.    
Had it all just been a ploy to lull him into a false sense of security so that he would let down his guard? Had Gat been mocking him behind his back all along, laughing at how easily it had been to fool the leader of the Saints? And, the question that tantalized him the most… Had Gat detected the hint of affection Playa had been feeling, and decided to exploit it for his own amusement?    
Every new thought was like coals fueling a dark fire in the pit of Playa’s stomach, and when he finally stepped out into the cool night, the only thing left on his mind was murder.   
  
  
Single-mindedly Playa walked straight towards the entrance, ignoring the shadows that swallowed everything left and right under the moonless sky. Gat wouldn’t be as cowardly as to try to ambush him from there.   
He reached out to grab the door handle when a sudden force pulled him out of the flickering street light’s shine and into the darkness. Not even a split second was needed to recognize its source.   
  
  
“Do you have a fucking death wish?” Gat spoke in a whisper and Playa hated how smooth it sounded even then.   
  
Without wasting a moment, the Saint threw his fist up to hit the man’s jaw, grunting in pain when the punch was redirected and hit the wall next to them instead. He didn’t care, though, immediately going for a second strike. Gat caught his arm and used his momentum to throw him against the warehouse. He was quick to pin his arm against Playa’s back and hissed in annoyance.   
  
“Cut it out.”   
  
Playa jerked to the side and managed to roll out of Johnny’s grip. As soon as he hit the floor, he drew his pistol to shoot the man before him and, just before he had fully pulled the trigger, Gat had kicked it out of his grip. The shot merely grazed the other man’s upper arm before the weapon landed several feet away from them.

“Okay, you fucking asked for it.” The Morningstar growled. He wound up and before the capo could react, a shattering pain shot through his skull and his vision went black.   
  
  
...  
  
The low rumble of a car engine and the soft shaking of the vehicle were the first things Playa noticed when he slowly regained his senses. He tried to move but a feeling like a tight hug held his arms in place. With a frustrated groan, the Saint cracked open his eyes and realized that he was lying on the backseat of a car.    
  
“Finally awake?” Gat’s voice asked from the driver’s seat and the realization of what had happened came crashing down on him.   
  
“You motherfucking– grah!” He spat out as he kicked the Morningstar’s seat from behind and felt for his gun in vain.    
  
It seemed like Johnny had made sure to disarm him before he had tied him up - though he wasn’t sure if “tied up” really applied to his situation. Apparently Gat had simply zipped him up in his Morningstar leather jacket and tied the sleeves together to tighten the hold. He hadn’t even bothered to restrain his legs.  _ All the better _ , Playa thought and sent another furious kick into the driver seat.   
  
  
“Hey, asshole, you’re the one who started attacking me out of nowhere!” Johnny called back but kept his eyes on the road.   
  
“Out of nowhere!? You attacked my neighbourhood!”   
  
“You mean the one you stole from us first?”   
  
“You  _ knew _ they were planning that attack, and acted like nothing was going on - even when we set the date for our next meeting!”   
  
“Because we never discuss gang business.”   
  
“You still could’ve given me a heads-up.  _ Not _ killed dozens of my people!”   
  
“Like you gave me a heads-up with Loren? Killed quite a few of our guys too, as far as I remember.”   
  
“I chose  _ not  _ to blow up the Syndicate tower because I knew you were still in it, you fucking asshole.”   
  
“And I chose not to smoke your ass in the Genki arena afterwards.  _ You’re welcome _ .”

The way Gat calmly countered every single reproach Playa sent his way was driving him mad and he wiggled to sit up on the back seat, wincing lightly as a sharp pain shot through his head again. Johnny sure hadn’t held back with that punch. But if that was so, why was Playa still alive and breathing?   
  
“Driving me someplace nice for my execution?” The Saint commented spitefully and Johnny didn’t answer. “Hey, Gat!”   
  
Playa kicked the seat again and was taken by surprise when the car suddenly took a sharp left that threw him to the side. His head slammed against the door and, once again, his vision went red in pain.   
  
“Fuck! Me!” He shouted out and was about to unleash another wave of curses when he realized that the car had come to a halt.   
  
He looked outside but, surrounded by darkness, Playa had no idea where the Morningstar had brought him. The lack of city lights let him guess that they weren’t anywhere close to Steelport anymore. Just what exactly did Gat have planned?   
  
  
  
“Where the fuck are we?”   
  
“Somewhere in the countryside, I guess. I can’t see shit.”   
  
“Okay, and why did you drive us to the fucking countryside?” There obviously weren’t any other Morningstars around and if Gat had wanted to kill him, he would have done so already. Probably. Unless he had something worse planned for him.   
  
“It’s a comfort thing.”   
  
“Driving to the countryside is your comfort thing?” Playa repeated skeptically.   
  
“When I can’t resort to the first, yeah.”   
  
“And that would be?”   
  
“Murderin’.”   
  
  
Well,  _ that _ made more sense, Playa thought to himself, though it was only one answer to the hundreds of questions weighing on his mind. The confusing situation had managed to warp most of his anger into frustration, but he still was  _ fucking pissed _ and hoped that Gat would finally start making some sense of it all soon.   
  
  
“Okay, and  _ why _ the fuck are we here, then?”   
  
“Judging from your PR team’s press statement, I take it that our Professor Genki thing didn’t sit too well with your folks. Well, I can tell you that it wasn’t much different on my side either. ‘cept that I didn’t have the liberty to lie about me being there at Genki’s. People know that I go and it’s safe to say they’d recognize my way of playing, too. Which left them wondering why I’d pass up the opportunity to smoke the leader of the Saints when he’s right in front of my barrel.” Gat looked at him through the rearview mirror. “Of course I could’ve played along and said that I knew that my partner wasn’t the real deal, but who the fuck would’ve been realistic to frame as the impostor? It’s not every day I run into a shot like you.”   
  
Playa didn’t know what the Morningstar was getting at, especially with the flattery that his comment implied, and started to become impatient. “So?”   
  
“So I figured I’d stick to the truth. Lying’s not really my thing, ‘specially when it gets complicated.”   
  
“And how did that work for you?” Playa questioned though he was more focused on trying to wiggle his way free from the jacket than on listening to the other’s answer. Johnny turned around and, to the Saint’s surprise, undid the knot he had tied into the sleeves.   
  
“They offered to spare my head in exchange for yours.”    
  
  
  
Playa stared back at Gat, so baffled by both the statement and his honesty that he didn’t move, even after the other had pulled down the zipper to free him from the jacket. A heaviness began to coil at the bottom of the capo’s stomach but before he could break the silence, Gat did.   
  
“If there’s a turf war, I gotta stand with my people. I owe them that. But killing you… it just doesn’t feel right.”   
  
  
Playa felt a soft sting in his chest and, just like that, his doubts and suspicions about Gat’s sincerity evaporated into thin air. He hadn’t lied. He hadn’t pretended. And, if a fraction of Johnny Gat’s reputation was true, the Saint could be certain that the man truly valued their friendship, if he was unwilling to murder him, even on command.    
Playa could have drowned in the flood of relief that was rising up inside of him, had it not been for the fatal issue that hung low over them.   
One of them would have to die.   
  
  
  
“... So what are you going to do?” Playa asked calmly. Realizing that Gat considered him a friend had brought him a strange sense of peace and, aware of the stark difference in strength, it was up to the other to decide how things would end.   
  
“I don’t know. That’s why we’re in the countryside.”   
  
“... Right.”   
  
  
For a moment the two men sat in the car in silence. Then, eventually, Playa spoke up again.   
  
“What if you don’t catch me?”   
  
“What?”   
  
“You can’t kill me if you don’t run into me. Give me a heads up where you’ll be and I’ll make sure  _ not _ to be there.” The Saint offered and, as strange as it sounded, he had a feeling that it could work.   
  
“You want me to start leaking Morningstar operations to the Saints? Nice try.”   
  
“Not  _ all  _ operations. Just the ones involving you.” Johnny raised an eyebrow, unconvinced, and Playa rolled his eyes. “Or you just keep me updated on where you go, regardless of operations. I’ll know where not to show my face and you won’t give away any valuable information.”   
  
“You don’t think this is gonna become suspicious? You never being where I show up?”   
  
“I’m notorious for being lucky.” The Saint smirked and, somehow, it finally infected Gat’s lips as well.   
  
  
“You’re one crazy bastard.” He chuckled as he turned back to the front and turned the car engine back on. “I’m gonna miss this.”   
  
“Alright, let’s do this.” Playa grinned in return, trying to ignore the warm sensation Gat’s words had stirred in his chest.   
  
“Time to never see each other again.” Johnny agreed and, as dark roads led them back to Steelport, bittersweet smiles rested on the two men’s faces.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Off-screen on their way back to Steelport:  
> Playa: "By the way... Did you even /try/ to tie me up?"  
> Gat: "I'm used to murderin', not taking hostages."  
> Playa: "That... actually makes a lot of sense."  
> Gat: "I know."


	8. Because The Night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If it makes it any easier: 0947 = 0GAT ; 8055 = BOSS
> 
> That being said... u better prepare :')
> 
> Now go, have fun˜

_XXX-XXX-0947_ _  
_ _07/07/14 - 18:34_ _  
_ [1900 rosen oaks] _  
_ _  
_ _XXX-XXX-0947_ _  
_ _07/07/14 - 20:08_ _  
_ [2030 yearwood] _  
_ _  
_ _XXX-XXX-0947_ _  
_ _07/07/14 - 21:46_ _  
_ [2200 loren sq] _  
_ _  
_ _XXX-XXX-0947_ _  
_ _07/08/14 - 01:32_ _  
_ [0200 salander] _  
_ _  
_ _XXX-XXX-0947_ _  
_ _07/08/14 - 10:01_ _  
_ [1100 arapice is] _  
_ _  
_ _XXX-XXX-0947_ _  
_ _07/08/14 - 12:20_ _  
_ [1300 rosen oaks] _  
_ _  
_ _XXX-XXX-0947_ _  
_ _07/08/14 - 16:12_ _  
_ [1700 wesley cut]

Two weeks had passed since his last encounter with Gat and, just as promised, Playa’s pocket vibrated sporadically with anonymous text messages that revealed the Morningstar’s upcoming locations. The Saint had stuck to his side of the agreement, too, and avoided the mentioned neighbourhoods at the specified times.   
  
The messages were short and never contained more than a timestamp and neighbourhood. Nevertheless, there was something about them, something about always knowing where Johnny was, that felt surprisingly intimate, and it brought an involuntary smile to Playa’s lips whenever a new one rang in.   
  
The diligence with which Gat sent the updates made it clear to the Saint how seriously he was taking the matter, and, with a bit of wishful thinking, how much he wanted to keep Playa safe - a thought that birthed both happiness and frustration over the fact he couldn’t meet the man.   
  
Eventually, when his frustration had begun to outweigh his rationality, he decided to go for the next best thing and started to reply whenever Gat would send a timestamp.   
  
  
_XXX-XXX-0947_ _  
_ _07/22/14 - 16:11_   
[1630 sunset pk]   
  
_XXX-XXX-8055_ _  
_ _07/22/14 - 16:15_   
[Going for a walk?]   
  
  
_XXX-XXX-0947_ _  
_ _07/25/14 - 22:01_   
[2230 loren sq]   
  
_XXX-XXX-8055_ _  
_ _07/25/14 - 22:04_   
[Let me guess… Broken Shillelagh?]   
  
  
_XXX-XXX-0947_ _  
_ _07/28/14 - 20:17_   
[2030 henry steel]   
  
_XXX-XXX-8055_   
_07/28/14 - 20:20_   
[God, I miss Genki.]   
  
  
Playa didn’t receive a single reaction to his messages, but held out for a week, randomly commenting every single update Gat sent him. As more days passed and the number of one-sided messages grew, so did the Saint’s impatience and his wish for payback.   
He knew Johnny was reading his messages, he just never replied, and while Playa found it amusing at first, he was starting to get annoyed by it soon enough. If they couldn’t see each other, the least Gat could do was text back, wasn’t it?   
  
  
_XXX-XXX-0947_ _  
_ _07/31/14 - 23:11_   
[2300 loren sq] _  
_ _  
XXX-XXX-8055  
07/31/14 - 23:13   
_[A bit late with the update this time, huh?] _  
  
__XXX-XXX-8055_ _  
_ _07/31/14 - 23:17_ _  
_ [A dyslexic man walks into a bra]   
  
  
Playa mindlessly typed down a joke, figuring that if he himself were at Loren Square at this time, he would probably be grabbing a drink at the Broken Shillelagh. Just as he was about to push his phone back into his pocket, it vibrated with a new message.   
It couldn’t be from Gat. He had just sent a timestamp, so his next message would follow half an hour later, the earliest. Nevertheless, Playa dared a hopeful look and his heart made a leap when he took in the message that flashed on his screen.   
  
  
_XXX-XXX-0947_ _  
_ _07/31/14 - 23:19_   
[u calling me dyslexic?]   
  
  
It took him several tries to type out his reply, fingers stumbling over themselves in excitement, and while he didn’t usually care about typos, they would be too ironic after he had just made a joke about dyslexia. His heart was pounding with anticipation for yet another reply from Gat when he sent his own (typo-free) message.   
  
  
_XXX-XXX-8055_ _  
_ _07/31/14 - 23:20_   
[So you are in a bar?]   
  
_XXX-XXX-0947_ _  
_ _07/31/14 - 23:20_  
[y]   
  
Not a minute had passed until Johnny’s reply. Playa answered instantly.   
  
_XXX-XXX-8055_ _  
_ _07/31/14 - 23:20_   
[Broken Shillelagh?]   
  
_XXX-XXX-0947_ _  
_ _07/31/14 - 23:21_   
[y]   
  
Again, the reply came without delay, and the thought of Johnny being on the other line of the phone, texting him from a bar only a short car ride away, was enough for Playa to throw all the self-restraint he had practiced over the past few weeks out the window and rush down to the Saints HQ’s garage to go find the other.   
  
_XXX-XXX-8055_ _  
_ _07/31/14 - 23:21_   
[Wait for me.]   
  
_XXX-XXX-0947_ _  
_ _07/31/14 - 23:21_   
[no wait]   
  
_XXX-XXX-8055_ _  
_ _07/31/14 - 23:22_   
[On my way.]   
  
_XXX-XXX-0947_ _  
_ _07/31/14 - 23:22_  
[dont come]   
  
  
Playa ignored Gat’s message and, fuelled by a sudden eagerness to annoy him, was quick to make his way up to Loren Square. If Johnny hadn’t left right after his message, he was certain to catch him there, the capo thought to himself. His heart was drumming in anticipation.   
  
  
_XXX-XXX-8055_ _  
_ _07/31/14 - 23:38_   
[Black Torch outside]   
  
  
He texted, not even bothering to turn off the engine, and began to impatiently thrum his fingers on the steering wheel. _Come out, come out, come out,_ he mumbled to himself, eyes fixed onto the bar’s entrance. Gat wasn’t going to ignore him, was he?

  
A few minutes passed and, just as Playa had begun to consider walking into the bar himself, a bulky figure stepped out of it. The person looked, spotted the Saint’s car and headed straight for it. The passenger door flew open, then shut again after Johnny Gat had taken the seat to Playa’s right.   
  
“I’m starting to think you really do have a death wish.” Gat spoke as he eyed up the Saint with a raised eyebrow and Playa felt a familiar warmth rise inside him at the sound of Johnny’s soothing voice.   
  
“Nice to see you, too.” Playa smirked back and hit the gas pedal before passersby would get suspicious… or Gat could change his mind and leave. The Morningstar didn’t seem bothered by this turn of events, however.   
  
“So, what’s up?”   
  
“Grab a drink with me. It’s been a while.” Playa answered and, from the corner of his eye, saw how Johnny crossed his arms as he relaxed into the seat.   
  
“Sure.”   
  
First the Saint made a stop at a gas station where he stocked up on beer - Gat stayed in the car to avoid being seen. Then, following Johnny’s example from a few weeks before, he drove them out of the city and into the darkness of the faraway countryside. He wanted Gat to himself and, now that he had finally found a chance to hang out with the other man, he wasn’t going to let anyone disturb them.   
  
  
  
“So, what makes today special?” Playa asked once he couldn’t hold back his curiosity any longer. He had managed to make it through a beer without bringing it up, but the question had been badgering him from the start, and he knew it wouldn’t give him any peace of mind as long as he left it alone. “You didn’t react to any of my other texts before.”   
  
“I’m not really a fan of texting.” Gat answered calmly but not to the Saint’s satisfaction.   
  
“You sure send a lot of messages for a guy who’s not a fan of texting.”   
  
“Well, because that’s what we agreed on. Made it feel like a more important matter than the fact of me not liking to text.”   
  
“Alright, fair. You still didn’t answer my question, though. Why today?”   
  
When silence fell between them, Playa assumed he wouldn’t get an answer anymore. The expression in Gat’s eyes was shielded by his sunglasses but Playa could tell from the way his jaw locked and his hands tightened, that the man was unusually tense.   
Perhaps he shouldn’t have asked after all, the capo thought. The atmosphere inside the car was starting to become uncomfortably heavy and the Saint was about to speak up again, when Johnny suddenly drew a deep breath and, against expectations, started talking.   
One sentence into the answer, however, Playa already wished he hadn’t.   
  
  
“Today’s the day my fiancée got killed.” Gat started, and when the other didn’t say anything, he calmly continued. “Three years ago, when Ultor tried to expand into Steelport, there was a disagreement between them and the Syndicate. Frictions over the distribution of finances or some shit. When things got dirty, they sent me to clean it up.   
...Eesh and I were living together at the time. Still wonder if they wouldn’t’ve found out about her if we hadn’t.”   
  
Lost in thoughts, Gat rolled the beer bottle in his hand, then took a large sip before he picked up where he had left off.   
  
“Ultor sent someone to ambush me at home, and they ran into her instead. She tried to warn me. Cost her her damn head.”   
  
When Johnny lifted his bottle to finish it, Playa had a feeling that there wasn’t more to be said. The uneasy feeling inside him made him wish he could just crack a joke to change the subject, but never before had he heard Gat talk with such serious sincerity and it felt wrong to devalue that with laughter.   
  
“I’m sorry.” The Saint answered instead while trying to make sense of his own messy thoughts.   
  
So Johnny Gat had had a fiancée. If that wasn’t enough to prove his love for the woman, he still seemed affected by his death, even years later, and for some reason the Saint felt more upset about that than sorry for her murder. Had he really loved her _that much_ ? Years had passed, so shouldn’t he be finally over her?   
  
Playa’s relationships had never lasted long enough to leave much of an impression on him, and he definitely wouldn’t have considered marrying any of his previous partners. But _Johnny Gat_ , the serial killer and Syndicate’s war machine, had fallen so hard for a woman that he would mourn her for years? The notion felt unrelatable and absurd, and for some reason it sent a hot-and-cold sensation through his body.   
  
“Yeah. Well, I went to the Broken Shillelagh to feel sorry too, but a certain bastard wouldn’t get off my back, and now here we are.”   
  
  
Considering the things he had just told the Saint, Johnny seemed strangely okay again and, as he put away the finished bottle, even his features looked much more relaxed.   
  
“... Thanks, man.” Playa had never heard Johnny speak so gently before and it suddenly took all his self-restraint to stay calm in his seat. Even after the usual nonchalance had returned to Johnny’s voice. “So what’d you want to meet up for?”   
  
“I missed you, Johnny.” Playa answered honestly, too focused on keeping his emotions in check to filter his words too.   
  
“Aw, sure, I missed you too. But there’s no need to get sappy.” He spoke with an amused smile that faded when he saw the look in the other’s face.   
  
“You know, I thought it’d be fine to put a halt on our meet-ups for a while and to focus on the gang. Hang out in the clubs with Pierce, grab a few drinks with Oleg and the others. Hell, I even let Zimos hook me up. But it all felt dull compared to our hang-outs.   
I know keeping a distance was my idea, but I didn’t think it would be like _this_ . And maybe _you’re_ fine with it, but it’s driving _me_ insane. So even if you hate texting, you could at least–”   
  
Playa was cut off when suddenly a set of lips pressed against his own and a warm hand at the back of his neck gently pulled him forward. Johnny Gat was kissing him. The realization took a second to sink in but when it had, the Saint wrapped his arms around the other’s shoulders to hold him close as he needily kissed back.

He hadn’t expected this. He hadn’t even dared to hope for anything of the sort, especially not after hearing about Johnny’s dead fiancée. But here they were, in a tangled embrace inside Playa’s car, and his senses were running wild with emotion.

Weeks of longing and frustration flowed into the kiss as Playa tugged at the back of Johnny’s jacket and hummed hungrily, leaning as close as their respective seats allowed. It wasn’t close enough.  
  


“Johnny…” He gasped the other’s name between breaths of air before he dove in for another needy kiss.  
  


His hand moved to Johnny’s shoulder and pushed him back against the seat, the kiss unbroken as Playa followed the other onto his lap. Gat’s palms had moved to rest at the other’s sides, running up and down his back while their tongues fought passionately over dominance.

  
  
Playa pulled back. Gasping for air, he took in the sight of the man below him, breathing just as heavily and absolutely beautiful. _Johnny Gat_ . It almost seemed too good to be true, but if this was a dream, he would make sure to savour every second of it.   
  
He reached to the side and pulled a small lever that inclined Johnny’s seat to the back, then returned his attention to the man who was watching him with an unreadable expression. Playa leaned over him to resume their kiss, and Gat cupped the back of his neck again to pull him close once more. The Saint felt himself drown in the intoxicating fragrance and warmth coming from the other, and Johnny’s low hums only added to the sensory overload.   
  
The way Johnny held him was both firm and gentle, and when his hands slid to the back of Playa’s pants, he followed their nudge to move his hips forward. A gasp slipped into their kiss and the Saint didn’t have to look down to know their embrace had affected both of them.   
  
He rolled his hips back, then repeated the movement, and Johnny’s fingers pressed deeper into the fabric as his breath shook under the sensation. He did it again. Their lips collided messily. Again. Playa’s teeth tugged on Johnny’s bottom lip. Again. A gasp freed the lip. Johnny’s tongue pushed into the Saint’s mouth in return. Again. Johnny’s grip on Playa’s ass tightened, craving more friction, more sensation, more _touch_ . Again.   
  
The Saint rolled his hips deep into the other’s lap, rubbing against it with a muffled moan, before he broke the kiss again and rested his forehead against Gat’s. Their hot breaths hung heavily between them as he reached down the other’s body and cupped the large bulge through the fabric. Pressing against it earned him a tight squeeze of his own butt in return, and Playa licked teasingly over Johnny’s lips before he started fumbling with his belt and pants to free him.   
  
Finally, the Saint tugged down the fabric to reveal the other’s manhood, and he couldn’t help his impressed remark.

“Where’ve you been hiding _this_ bad boy?”   
  
Johnny snorted, visibly amused, and reached over to return the favor by giving Playa the same treatment.

  
  
By the time both men were freed, their erections were leaking in anticipation, and the Saint pushed up Gat’s shirt to limit the mess they’d make on it. Not to catch a glimpse of Johnny’s toned torso, of course. But, _god,_ was he hot.   
  
The Morningstar caught him staring and caught his chin, to guide their lips back together. When they connected, Johnny’s palm ran over the moist tip and Playa shuddered at the sensation. _More_ . The Saint wrapped his fingers around the large length beneath him and began stroking it in response.   
  
The men matched their breaths and paces, starting with slow, teasing movements, only to increase in speed and intensity as their patience ran out.   
  
“F… fuck… J...ohnny…!”   
  
Playa gasped praises and curses between breaths, and low, breathy moans escaped the other in response, as the two men worked on each other to their limits on the car seat. Sloppy kisses were interrupted by sounds neither of them tried to hold back, and their hands, slippery with precum, moved fast on each other’s cocks.   
  
“Nghh… J... Johnn… Fuck yeah, f… faster! F… Aagh...”   
  
  
Johnny followed the order and Playa dropped his forehead against the other’s shoulder. The Saint moaned under the movements and, feeling the warm skin of Gat’s neck next to him, tilted his head and sunk his teeth into it.   
  
“Hngh!” Johnny grunted in response and Playa felt new precum run over his fingers. _So he’s into that, huh?_ , the capo thought to himself and found another spot to mark on the other’s neck. With a low moan, Gat’s body suddenly tensed up under the sensation and shuddered as the Morningstar reached his limit and found his release in the other’s hand.   
  
“Fuck, that’s hot…” The Saint mumbled under his breath and felt himself leaking onto the other man’s underwear as Johnny’s muscles twitched beneath him. He was close too, and wrapped his slippery hand around the other’s to guide it over his erection.   
  
“Hah… god… damn… _yes…_ ! Hngh…! So… fucking-... y- _AH_ …!!”   
  
  
When he finally found his release, Playa’s loud moan filled the quiet car and he rocked his hips a few more times into Johnny’s hand to ride out his orgasm.   
  
He reluctantly took the time to wipe them clean with some wipes from the glovebox, then tossed them on the floor and lay down on top of the other, resting his head on top of Gat’s shoulder.   
  
“That was fucking hot.” Playa smirked to himself, and the body below him shook lightly with the Morningstar’s chuckle. The Saint felt a happiness bubble up inside himself unlike any he had ever felt before, but decided to allow himself to feel exhausted, if only to use it as an excuse not to move. “I think I’ll just spend the night like this.”   
  
“Got nowhere to be?” Gat asked, sounding amused.   
  
“Not till tomorrow morning.” Playa answered and he knew this moment was perfect when he felt Johnny’s arm wrap around his back in response.   
  
“Alright then.”   
  
  
They stayed like that for a while, then shifted, readjusted their positions and moved to the back, where the duo finally found a comfortable position and, in the early morning hours, drifted off to sleep.   
  
  
When Playa’s phone rang him awake a few hours later, it took him a moment to orient himself, confused as to why an arm lay across his chest and whose shoulder he was resting against. Then the memories of the past night came rushing back to him and the sight of Johnny Gat’s resting face behind him rekindled the warm feeling inside his chest.   
  
Only reluctantly did he pick up the phone and let Pierce disturb their secluded togetherness.   
  
  
“Yo, boss.”   
  
“This better be important, Pierce.”   
  
“I’m calling about the 9 o’clock meeting with Channel 6. Seems like there was a problem with their previous location and they want to relocate it to the Saints HQ. Shaundi and the others are already preparing the place, just make sure you show up on time, alright?”   
  
“Saints HQ. Got it.”   
  
“Alright, cool. See you then.”   
  
  
Playa hung up and, seeing the time flash on his phone display, he let out an unhappy groan. 8:10. He had to hurry back to Steelport or else he’d be late.   
  
“Everything alright?” Gat’s voice came from behind him and Playa noted he loved how raspy it sounded in the morning.   
  
“Yeah, just gotta head back for a meeting.” He answered, already missing the fading warmth Johnny’s embrace had provided. Gat nodded.   
  
“Alright, let’s roll.” But before he could step outside the car to switch to the passenger seat, Playa had grabbed his collar and dragged him into a kiss. Johnny kissed back. _Good_ . So whatever had happened the night before wasn’t a one-time thing, the Saint figured and released the other contentedly.   
  
  
The sleepy men didn’t talk much on their way back. Only when the skyscrapers of Steelport became visible in the distance, Playa turned to ask Johnny where he would like to be dropped off.   
  
“Anywhere near Salander.” Johnny shrugged and Playa nodded.   
  
“You live there?”   
  
“Yeah.”   
  
“I’ll drive you home, just let me know where.” The Saint offered, secretly eager to find out Gat’s address. ...Even if it meant being late to his Channel 6 interview. He was sure Pierce would find a way to stall for time.   
  
  
Shortly before nine they had come to a halt and parked in the driveway in front of Johnny’s house.   
  
“Yo, thanks for the ride.” Gat smirked and reached for the door.   
  
“Aren’t you forgett–?” But before Playa could finish, Johnny’s lips locked his mouth for a final goodbye kiss that made his knees weak again.   
  
“Nah, I think I got everything.” The Morningstar answered cockily and left the car for real.   
  
With an amused smile, Playa started the engine and watched Johnny as he walked over towards the entrance. That was until the Saint realized that he had forgotten something important, and rushed to lower the passenger side window.   
  


“You better start answering my bloody texts!”  
  
Gat looked back at him, a lopsided smirk on his lips, and gave him a thumbs up before disappearing into his house.   
  
_Good_ , Playa thought, finally satisfied. _He better._


	9. Pimps Up, Hos Down

After their secret midnight meeting, Johnny had kept his promise and answered Playa’s messages ever since. The texts weren’t long nor meaningful, yet they still brought a smile to Saints’ lips whenever they rang in.  
The knowledge that he had a reliable way to contact Gat gave him peace of mind and he finally was able to focus on his bigger problems again. The Saints still had a city to take over.  
  
Despite being on the two opposing ends of the same battle, Playa didn’t worry about having to go up against Gat. Thanks to their secret agreement and the Morningstar’s updates, they had managed to avoid running into each other, and even though it meant to accept collateral they knew the other one was responsible for, it was a price Playa had selfishly chosen to accept. He simply felt that, whatever the cost, Johnny was worth it. Even if it meant keeping a secret that would unleash hell among Steelport’s gang were anyone to find out - and rightfully so.   
Luckily - at least for now - this hadn’t made it onto his list of things to worry about yet.  
  
  
  
The leader of the Saints stepped out of his black Torch to find Zimos who had called him to Loren Square to let him in on his latest revenge plot against the Morningstars. He spotted the pimp on the plaza in front of the Deckers’ skyscraper and moved to join his side when breaking news suddenly flashed on the building’s large video panel and caught the present crowd’s attention.  
  
“ _Our uncontrolled media and the goods sold to our children have fetishized gang culture and turned sociopathic madmen into heroes. No more!_ _Those responsible for this act of terror will be found and held accountable.”_ Monica Hughes’ voice sounded loudly through the billboard-lit streets below as the Senator’s announcement was broadcast live on News13. “ _The STAG Initiative marks a milestone in taking back the streets of America!_ ”  
  
“What the hell is the ‘STAG Initiative’...?” Playa wondered aloud and the flamboyant pimp answered snidely.

“If it's free porn for everyone - I'm down.”   
  
None the wiser, Playa watched Zimos turn away and followed him down the street.   
  
“So what's the lead?”   
  
“I got you hooked up, Slim.”   
  
“Very discreet.” Playa rolled his eyes but was stopped when Zimos suddenly handed him an exclusive-looking red envelope. White printed letters read “MORNINGSTAR” and the trademark pink star outline adorned its side.    


**“** That's an invitation to kick the Morningstar right in their collective pussy. They're having an auction tonight--flash the card, and you're in.”   
  
The plan caught Playa’s interest and he opened the letter to skim through the event’s invitation, smirking to himself. “So what, I pretend to be an eccentric millionaire?”   
  
“Kind of. I'm gonna auction you off as a sex slave.”   
  
His smile fell. That was not what the boss had had in mind. “Fuck. That.”   
  
“Oh, quit being a bitch and get in the van.” Zimos dismissed his objection and pulled open the back doors of his zebra-patterned car. Playa looked at him, really not eager to go through with the pimp’s suggestion, but heaved a sigh when he realized that the other man wasn’t going to suggest an alternative.   
  
“Put on your birthday suit and let’s roll.” Zimos continued when the Saints boss reluctantly stepped into the van and shot him an annoyed look.   
  
“Don’t you at least have something to get me in the mood? This isn’t exactly my kind of trade.”   
  
“Oh, don’t worry, baby. I got the good shit right there.” The pimp’s cane pointed at something inside the car. “Just check the zebra-pattern box in the back and help yourself. Don’t go overboard though or things might get  _ dark _ .”   
  
“Alright, gotcha.”   
  
“See you on the other side.” The pimp’s melodic voice sounded almost amused when he slammed the door shut and left Playa to himself in the back of his car.

  
In retrospect, Playa admitted to himself that he  _ might  _ have disregarded Zimos’ advice when the world around him spun into darkness and the motor’s low rumble remained the only thing he perceived for the remainder of the ride.   
  
  


“Why’d we get the new guns?” An unfamiliar voice sounded from the front of the car. Had there always been someone in the passenger seat?   
  
“They’re mine, for when the girls don’t perform.” Another voice answered and, while it didn’t sound like Zimos’ either, Playa had a distinct feeling that it belonged to him anyway. Weird.   
  
Before his hazy mind could try to make sense of it, the motor stopped and doors were opened. In the front? Or the back of the van? He couldn’t tell, even after he thought he had opened his eyes. Were they really open? Then there were hands on him that pulled him out of the car. He let his body be dragged. It didn’t feel like his own anyway. It was more like swimming in a warm river,  _ being one _ with the river, and just following it’s flow.    
  
“As long as we get paid, don’t care who you’re gonna shoot.” The first voice commented and the car door slammed shut. It sounded far away.   
  
The Saint let himself be pulled by the warm river, up a mountain, and through many twists and turns while the water’s sound rumbled comfortably all around him. Then he felt something tug at him and suddenly the stream’s warmth vanished. He slammed into a rock. A somewhat scratchy rock. The water turned silent.   
When Playa opened his eyes, he found himself lying atop a large, round carpet inside an otherwise empty room. He forced himself to stand and immediately regretted the decision when the world around him began to spin again.   
  
"I don't feel so great..." He mumbled to himself, but pushed ahead toward the double door that seemed to be the only way out of the room. Right as he was about to reach it, they flew open and Zimos welcomed him outside.   
  
"Here's your guns back." The pimp spoke as he held out the Saint’s pistols and SMG. Playa tried to reach out for them, when his feet suddenly gave out underneath him and he faced the floor once again.  _ Fuck _ .  _ Nobody saw that, right? _ He stumbled back up and pulled the weapons from Zimos’ hands.   
  
"Where am I supposed to keep this?" He answered as he tried to figure out a way to secure the guns on his body. The SMG had a strap he could pull over his shoulder, but he would have to carry the pistols by hand. And as for extra ammo… Well, he would have to see about that.   
  
"That's on you to figure out, baby. I'd rather not know."   
  
  
  
The two men ran down the hallway, where they met eyes with a small group of surprised Morningstar. While the first two immediately opened fire, the third turned around in his security booth and pressed the alarm button, triggering the sound to warn the rest of his gang.   
  
"Find something to shut off those alarms." Zimos shouted over the gunfire and Playa darted forward to take out the man standing by the control panels.   
  
While the pimp kept the other shooters at bay, the Saints’ leader hammered away at the keyboard in front of him in vain. Perhaps it would have helped if he had had any idea of how to go about it before the security system locked him out of the device, the alarm still thundering through the entire building. Or perhaps he shouldn’t have taken more than two of the friendly-looking pills Zimos had warned him about. He could vaguely remember a label that read “no more than 1”. Fuck that, he had been too antsy to care and it wasn’t like he could do anything about it n–   
  
“Nh… urgh....” The urge to throw up came too sudden to fight it and Playa was glad he wasn’t part of the Morningstars’ staff who would have to clean up the mess he left behind.    
Hold on… If they took over Safeword, wasn’t it his own staff who would have to do the cleaning?    
  
“Good thing I’m the  _ boss _ ,” the leader agreed with himself but was interrupted when Zimos spoke up again.   
  
"Damn things are still goin'... We'll have to go down to find the security room."    
  
“Yeah, alright.” Playa nodded and tried to make his way towards the door when he met the marble floor once again. “ _ Bloody hell! _ What is making the floor vibrate?”   
  
  
  
  
Despite the boss’ condition, the two men managed to shoot their way past snipers and Morningstar specialists, through the red-light building until they found the staircase that led down to the security center.   
  
“You're handling this naked thing better than I thought you would.” Zimos commented as they moved down the stairs and the Saint almost stumbled over his feet when he stopped to look down on himself.   
  
“I'm naked...?”    
  
Zimos raised an eyebrow.   
  
“Just how many pills did you take?”   
  
“Don’t ask.”    
  
Playa quickly pushed through the security center’s entrance to avoid the question and was faced with the next wave of Morningstar members that tried to stop him. Taking them out was getting easier as the drug’s effect started wearing off, and upon Zimos’ suggestion they freed the imprisoned hookers while they pushed through the underground labyrinth of storage rooms and prison cells.  
  


They had reached the garage at the far end of the basement complex, when the head of security suddenly came rushing towards them. The large brute wielded his minigun as if it weighed next to nothing and Zimos took cover while Playa dropped his pistols and decided to face him head-on with his SMG. Perhaps the drug had somehow managed to better his aim, or perhaps Lady Fortune had decided to smile upon the Saints, but the Oleg clone went down with surprising ease, effectively marking the end of the Saints’ takeover of Safeword. They had won. And it had been… surprisingly easy.  _ Huh. _   
  
“Your plan actually worked!”   
  
“What did you expect?” Zimos retorted and took a look around the now-quiet space. “This place definitely needs some cleaning-up, but it’ll be one hell of an asset once it’s done.”   
  
“I’ll call Pierce to get it on. … Uh… Where’s my stuff?” He asked, slowly becoming aware that he was still unclad.   
  
“In the back of my car.” He said, tossing over a set of keys for Playa to catch. “I’ll be upstairs planning the vamping-up, while you get ready.”   
  
“Alright, see ya.”   
  
  
  
He watched the pimp disappear down the way they had come, then turned to the zebra-pattern van that stood dangerously close to where the brute had gone down. The Saint moved to its back and had just opened the rear doors when he felt cold steel press against the back of his head. That wasn’t the reason why Playa’s heart skipped a beat, however.   
  
“I thought we had a fucking deal.” 

“Johnny!?” He turned around and found himself face to face with the familiar Morningstar. Perhaps the drug’s aftereffects were to blame, but for some reason he looked even more attractive than usual. “Fuck, is he handsome.”   
  
The Saints didn’t realize that he had thought aloud and Gat lifted an eyebrow off his frown.    
  
“What are you doing here?” Playa asked and, though he put away his gun, Johnny didn’t seem pleased.   
  
“What the fuck? That’s my line.  _ I texted you _ I would be here, and we had an agreement you wouldn’t show.”   
  
“I...  _ Oh _ . Fuck. Yeah, I kinda… don’t have my phone on me.” The Saint replied and watched Johnny look down his naked body.   
  
“Yeah, no kidding. The fuck are you running around naked for?” The Morningstar asked, seemingly unpleased. Playa’s eyes widened when he suddenly felt the other’s hand lowering on his side, however, and couldn’t stop himself from leaning into the touch.   
  
“Zimos had... a… plan...” He struggled to answer, too distracted by the rough thumb that was gently rubbing over his skin. Did the drug intensify sensations? Most likely, considering its primary purpose was to loosen up hookers and their clients. Playa swallowed hard.   
  
“O...kay?” It was obvious that Gat couldn’t make sense of that reply. “Anyway, I should bail. No one can know I was here…”   
  
  
He pulled back his hand - much to the Saint’s frustration - and took a step back, when Playa suddenly grabbed his collar and dragged him into a kiss instead. Fuck that, he wasn’t going to just let him go like that.   
  
Johnny didn’t put up a fight and kissed back, his hands finding their way back to hold the other’s sides. Playa sighed contentedly into the kiss and tugged harder at the fabric between his fingers. He was surrounded by Johnny’s earthy scent, by his taste and warmth, and he began to feel a new kind of high, as the man took over his senses.   
Eventually his hands released the collar and moved up to cup the Morningstar’s face. He gasped his name between kisses and caught Gat’s bottom lip between his teeth. Johnny hummed in response, his grip loosening, as his hands began to explore the Saint’s naked torso instead. Playa shuddered and left Johnny’s lips to kiss his way down to his neck instead. Once arrived, his teeth sunk into the soft skin, drawing a low grunt from the other man whose fingers curled in against Playa’s sides. The reaction left the Saint craving for  _ more _ .    
  
His hands ran down Johnny’s body until they had reached his belt, then moved swiftly to unbuckle it and unzip the other man’s pants. Gat let him, and when Playa reached inside to feel him, the boss was left without doubt regarding the  _ why _ . He licked over his lips.    
_ More _ .   
  
  
He lowered himself onto his knees and tugged down the fabric to free Johnny’s semi-hard cock. His fingers closed around it and Gat gently moving his hand through Playa’s hair was all the encouragement he needed to guide it to his mouth.   
  
Johnny breathed out a shaky gasp as the warm tongue pressed against his length and Playa felt the grip on his hair tightening in response. Pleased, he moved back to suck at the tip, flicked his tongue over it, then took in all of the growing shaft. Gat let out a low hum.    
Moving back and forth, his moist lips wrapped firmly around it, the Saint could feel the manhood hardening inside his mouth and decided to tease Johnny some more.    
He licked down the erection and moved even lower to suck at his balls instead.    
  
“Hngh!”    
  
The sound caught Playa’s attention and when he looked up he saw Johnny looking down at him, jaw locked and eyebrows lowered tensely. His eyes locked on the other’s face, the Saint teasingly sucked one testicle into his mouth, then gave it a lick and moved over to the next. He greedily inhaled the musky scent, nuzzling the hair, and felt eagerness bubble up inside him. Above him Gat’s chest, too, rose and sank under his heavy breaths.    
  
Playa licked up the erection, then wrapped his lips around the head again. The full length was harder to handle and the Saint decided to tease the tip for now. Then he felt Gat’s hand distinctly pressing against the back of his head, and understood the urge to take in more.   
The boss’ head bobbed up and down the moist erection, and as it did, more soft gasps escaped the Morningstar. Boldened by the reactions, Playa pushed deeper, barely able to take in the hard cock in its entirety, but the rough moan that slipped past Johnny’s lips made it worth the while and the Saint repeated the movement.    
  
Again and again he slid his lips along the shaft and he could taste the salty precum on his tongue already when the other’s hips began to thrust into him in return. It took him by surprise at first, the hand at the back of his head keeping him from moving away, but the panting breaths above him were too arousing to resist, and while Gat pounded into him, he felt his own erection leak onto the floor.   
  
Gat’s movements sped up and Playa could only assume he was close to his climax, when he suddenly jerked back and pulled the Saint back onto his feet. Before he could react, the boss was turned around in the Morningstar’s hold and supported himself against the van door when he felt the moist erection slip between his thighs.   
  
With each thrust, the cock rubbed against the base of Playa’s own and he felt Johnny’s warm body firm against his back. The Morningstar wrapped an arm around his torso to steady him while his free hand moved to take care of the other’s erection. While Johnny’s cock thrusted through his thighs, his own jerked into Gat’s hand. The sensation, along with Johnny’s rushed breath in his ear, was addictive and Playa reached down to speed up the other’s hand around his leaking manhood.   
  
“F...Fuck, yes…!! Harder, Johnny…! Fuck me  _ harder _ !!” He cried out, Gat’s hips pounding against him in response. He heard Johnny curse under his breath, when his movements became erratic. A few more hard thrusts and Playa felt the body behind him tremble under a loud moan as Johnny’s release shot out from between Playa’s thighs. It didn’t take long for Playa to follow, cumming into both of their hands as he called out the other’s name.   
  
  
  
For a short while they held their positions, taking a moment to recover and catch their breaths. Then, eventually, Playa turned around in Johnny’s embrace and kissed him. A cheeky smirk tugged at his lips.   
  
“Maybe I should break our agreement more often.” He suggested. Gat frowned in return.   
  
“Don’t.” He withstood Playa’s pout for a moment, then sighed. “If you really want to meet up let me know, but not like this. You know how fucking hard it is to just stand by and watch you take out Morningstars when I’m actually supposed to smoke your ass on sight? Not cool.”   
  
“Yeah. I really didn’t plan on this either.”   
  
“So why  _ were _ you running around naked anyway?”   
  
“Zimos said we would be able to infiltrate and take over Safeword if he pretended to sell me off as a sex slave.”   
  
“Huh. Couldn’t you just have found a way to sneak in if you were going to kill everyone inside anyway?”   
  
“No, that–…”   
  
Playa stared at him for a moment as he considered the option. Then something dawned on him.   
  
“Zimos, that fucking bastard…”   
  
Gat chuckled at the reaction, then pulled back with a shrug.    
  
“At the very least it made for an interesting sight.”   
  
Seeing Johnny’s amusement, the Saint decided to forgive the pimp this time, if only because  _ in some way _ he had contributed to his meeting with the Morningstar.   
  
“You know what? Yeah. No regrets. … I do need a shower now though.” Playa looked down at the mess they had made and Gat pointed to the side.    
  
“There are some in the bedrooms upstairs.”   
  
“Great.” He nodded but spoke up again when he saw Johnny check his phone for the time. He should probably leave soon. “Hey, let’s go for drinks again sometime.”   
  
“Yeah, sounds good. I’ll text you.”   
  
“Patience is not one of my virtues.”    
  
“No shit.” Gat smirked. “I’ll keep that in mind.”   
  
The boss decided to let the teasing slide and claimed one last kiss before he reluctantly let Johnny slip out through the back entrance. At least he could trust that they would meet up again soon.   
  
  
Once alone, Playa tried his best to clean most of the mess with some paper towels he found inside the van, then grabbed his clothes and headed back upstairs - still naked to Zimos’ surprise - to take a shower first.    
  
Johnny on the other hand made his way to Loren Square to find an alibi and come up with an excuse as to why he hadn’t been at Safeword to stop the Saints.    
  
Both wore content smirks for the rest of the evening that none of their associates would be able to explain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thanks for reading!  
> I hope the longer wait was somewhat worth it.
> 
> Feedback is much appreciated. <3
> 
> (By the way, if you like the content, go check out call-david-14180 on Tumblr! He makes amazing art for the AU and is a constant source of motivation.)


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